Canto Alla Vita
by SoundofInsurrection
Summary: A canon compliant, no slash, serious attempt at a TMR JR origins story, inspired by things in the books that remain unanswered. Read the long-ish note at the beginning of the first chapter to find out if this is a story for you. Rating for much later chapters. Genres are more accurately Supernatural, Tragedy (we know how the books go), Humor, Adventure, Romance and Drama.
1. Chapter 1

**A Singular Author's Note**

Hello there to my fellow Potterheads! Just a few words from me before we get into the story, and then you'll not be seeing Author Notes that detract from the flow of the story unless there's extenuating circumstances or an overwhelming repetitive response from readers that requires me to answer en masse so as to avoid repeating myself via PMs.

This story is 95% canon compliant, and takes place entirely before the books that are owned by the fabulous J. K. Rowling. I'm a former editor and review writer for an international company who is now an aspiring novelist, and I use fanfictions as creative exercises to entertain myself between my original fic endeavors. I like the challenge of trying to interweave a side story among the structure someone else has already laid out.

The point of this fanfiction?

I, like so many others, grew up with the Harry Potter books and they helped me through many difficult and awkward years growing up. Now pushing thirty and having a son of my own, to whom I read the books to and watch the movies with, I can't help but evaluate the story with a lens of matured perspective. Lord Voldemort, formerly Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior, and how J. K. Rowling portrayed him became a curiosity for me because- after years of studying creative writing, psychology and other pertinent areas to be an effective writer- evil for the sake of evil, and being fated at birth to be without the ability to love because his mother wasn't there, seemed like hollow, Freudian excuses for the main antagonist. It makes it easy to root for the Golden Trio, which is admittedly acceptable for a young adult's series.

However, it got me wondering. What if there was more to the story than we're told? I spotted a large number of points in the series- vague allusions to things that had happened, subtle references to conversations that had been had, mysterious and contradicting versions of characters from the past being given, facts of Voldemort's rise to power that were never explained- that could be strung together to form the story you'll now be reading. As said, this is 95% canon compliant. As for the remaining 5%... Well, Dumbledore was known to withhold truths or spin half-truths when he felt it was for the greater good, and allowing any softer sides of Voldemort to be known to Harry could have made it harder for Harry to do what he needed to do.

There's no Dumbledore or other canon character bashing here, and I'm going to try my very best to do justice to all characters that are property of the HP franchise. A large number of the characters found here are OCs, as we don't know too much about Voldemort's past, but I tried to take as much inspiration as possible from what is known about the wizarding world as I could. Some of the OCs are technically canon characters that get a brief mention in the books, or on Pottermore, that I fleshed out to be support characters for this story. Others, I cross-referenced what was known of wizarding families and filled in blank spots with appropriate family members. Others are entirely my creation. History and mythology help fill in some spaces, and then a dash of my overactive imagination finishes off the cocktail. The OCs are going to get the spot light on occasion to develop their character, as this story spans a few decades and they are interwoven with TMR Jr's rise to power. To forestall the inevitable inquiries- We first hear about Tom in Chapter 4; Chapter 6 marks the first we actually see him and the start of chapters from his perspective. For what I have written thus far, after that point, half the chapters are Tom POV.

This story is just as much about Tom as it is the lives he affected and fleshing out the wizarding world of the 1940s, and how things were irrevocably destroyed or changed with his rise to power. Familiar places such as Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade have been expanded with careful consideration; the version we know in the 1990s is what is left after the first war decimated them. I have them mapped out; and if there's an interest, I can post them online for people to reference as they read this story. But yes, they are expanded. Voldemort was this big scary by the 90s, though we only get little sound bites of info in regards to what he did to deserve his reputation. The later part of this story will explore that; the earlier sets the stage.

On that note, certain canon characters we know from the books may seem a little OOC at first, but please keep in mind this is the 1940s version of them. No one stays the same, and fifty years of hardships and war will change people drastically. These versions are how I profiled the characters to likely be way back when, and you'll see the slow but steady evolution into their older selves as the story progresses.

The main character, outside of Tom, is an OC who is going to be a "romantic" interest later in the series. (I use romantic as a loose term, because this clearly isn't going to be a fluff-filled, straight-forward, happy-ending love story.) I am fully aware of the fact that because of the background/heritage I've constructed for Amaryllis, some people are going to immediately scream she's a Mary Sue and flame me. However, please keep in mind that I'm basing this story on the canon and trying to bring together all the odd points and plot holes that exist therein. I didn't make decisions about Amaryllis lightly; there are very good reasons she is how she is. If you are patient and stick with me for this story, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by how it wraps up, tying all those little mysteries from the books. The final chapters will actually be brief clips of scenes from the books, being given the viewpoint of this story to show how the past culminated into the story we all know; aka the scenes that inspired this fanfic.

Lastly, given where this story begins, the summer before Tom's first year, this is obviously going to be a slow burn for the romance aspect, and that won't even start to be the smallest of factors until they're in later years of Hogwarts. I don't fancy writing underage sexual situations, and it'd be out of character for these two. They have a lot of growing up to do, and the early years written is more building the foundation for the other aspects of this story. If you want something that jumps straight to warring-action and smut, there's plenty of other stories out there that start off in later age for Tom. If you fancy trying to discover what happened behind the scenes of the books and enjoy character development, then stick around as I've tried to keep this entertaining. Either way, you've been given the heads up for what to expect.

With all that said, grab some popcorn and your drink of choice, and enjoy the show!

 **Chapter 1**

The austere and orderly Headmaster's office was lit, on this stormy June eve, by a wavering fire in the fireplace. Armando Dippet's head was aching fiercely from having had little sleep the last three nights and the brighter lights from his enchanted wall sconces would have only compounded the issue. He grasped a crystal snifter in one age-spotted hand, taking a slow sip as he read, for the fifty-fourth time, the letter before him. The snifter of brandy was placed next to the carafe holding the bottle, the only other objects on the table besides the ill-fated letter and his Poplar wand.

Headmaster Dippet's concentration was broken by a soft rap on the door. He let out a short sigh, weary brown eyes closing for a few seconds. Gathering up what mental reserves he had, he opened his eyes. Folding the letter in half so its contents weren't immediately revealed, he called out in a voice that betrayed neither his inebriated and exhausted state, "Come in, Albus."

The door opened, revealing the Transfiguration professor, Albus Dumbledore. As usual, the younger wizard was dressed in ostentatious robes, these ones a dusky rose and made of flowing silk to accommodate sleeping in such hot weather. They clashed something fiercely with Albus's auburn hair, in Dippet's opinion, but he had long since given up asking the eccentric professor to tame his outfits. Albus's blue eyes lost some of their customary merry twinkle as they swept over the Headmaster and took note of the open bottle and half-empty glass resting on the Headmaster's desk.

"It appears that whatever has been plaguing your mind the last few days has finally taken enough toll that you are in need of discussing it, my friend," Albus's soft voice carried easily across the room as he closed the door behind himself. His long legged stride, though not hurried, brought him before the desk a few seconds later.

"You are, as always, perceptive, Albus," Armando said with a wry smile that lasted only a few seconds before fading back to a small frown.

At the Headmaster's gesture to do so, Albus took a seat on the straight backed chair placed before the table.

Silence stretched for some minutes. The Headmaster's attention was on the flickering fire behind his guest, clearly gathering his thoughts on how to broach the subject. The professor's attention was split between careful looks at his colleague and the letter before the elder wizard. The letter was creased to the point of fragileness along the seams, obviously having been folded and unfolded many times since its arrival. There were a few small discolorations bleeding through the parchment that looked suspiciously like tear stains.

That only increased Albus's concern for the contents of the letter, wondering if it was perhaps news from the continent and he was being called in to give his thoughts on his former friend wreaking havoc there. That would not explain potential tears, however. Armando Dippet was not a wizard who cried easily and, while the events were disturbing, weren't likely to cause his stern façade to break. Perhaps the sender had shed such tears? Albus couldn't think of how that would relate to his presence being requested at such an unorthodox hour, except to be a confidential ear once more. He could only wait to hear the explanation from the Headmaster, and he did so with his well-trained patience.

Finally, after a heavy sigh, Armando's gaze went back to his friend. "Albus, do you remember my trip to Italy for the International Magical Educational Conference."

"Indeed," Albus said solemnly with a nod, wondering what that event over a decade ago could have to do with the letter in front of the Headmaster. "You spent nearly two months preparing for it, worried your notes would be misplaced or you had forgotten some important point for the lecture." He couldn't help but smile a bit with fond recollection, "You had Professor Merrythought and I read through your notes several times over to make certain you hadn't. Your lecture went over quite splendidly; I'd like to think that was in small part to our responses. And you returned in rather pleasant spirits as a welcome contrast to how you left."

Armando nodded, but he didn't return the smile. His gaze went to the letter before him. Heaving another sigh, he said quietly, "I did not relate to you, nor anyone, information about something that also took place while I was in Italy." His dark gaze lifted and locked onto Albus's light blue. "It's something that is deeply personal, and a bit of embarrassment. I need your word, my friend, that you will keep this information between us, if I am to ask for your advice on the matter."

Albus's brows furrowed together for just a brief moment, his concern for his friend outweighing his confusion. He was only being asked to keep silent on what he heard, after all, not promising to help when he knew nothing of the situation. "Of course, Armando. You have my word."

"Thank you, Albus. I knew you would understand." Armando gave a fleeting grateful smile, then his attention was back on the letter in front of him. He coughed lightly, clearing his throat. With an impassive voice, he began his tale quietly. "While I was in Italy, I socialized with a number of the other guest speakers and patrons of the Conference. There was one guest speaker there who I ended up engaging with in a number of lively debates. I must confess, at my age, and with all my experiences, there are very few who I feel are intellectual equals. You, of course, are one. And…" The Headmaster swallowed heavily, gave another cough, this time uncomfortable. "And she was another…"

Albus's eyebrows rose as his eyes widened, this time in surprise, as the unexpected confession caught him off guard before he could compose himself. While he himself was getting on in years, Armando Dippet had just turned three hundred years old last year. Magic was able to prolong a wizard's life, and vitality, but the older wizard was still quite old. What seemed to be leading to a confession of a summer tryst hadn't even crossed Albus's mind. Thankfully, Armando's attention was not on him and he didn't notice the expression. Ideas were racing through the Transfiguration professor's mind as to the many ways this conversation was likely to go, trying to be prepared for whichever might be revealed so he might be properly able to give his friend aid. The letter must contain some news that ill fortune had found this unknown European witch, likely due to the war raging on the continent, which would undoubtedly cause his friend heartache. Albus's face softened in compassion as he came to that conclusion while listening to Armando slowly continue his story.

"…We spent several nights having some of the most intriguing conversations I've had the pleasure to be a part of, on a great many subjects. She was especially passionate about different sorts of magic pertaining to nature, and found my theories on Charms for such fascinating…"

Albus saw a faint shimmer of tears forming in his friend's eyes, despite them being downcast. He watched as the normally-stalwart Headmaster of Hogwarts took a slow breath and blinked away the tears.

"Well, as I'm sure your brilliant mind has guessed, my friend, our impassioned debates led to other things one evening…" The elder wizard cleared his throat, giving a strangely wistful frown. "I won't say that I was at my peak, but it was something memorable for myself, and she seemed happy with the evening."

"Given your skills with Charms," Albus said with a gentle attempt at levity, "I'm quite certain you knew of ways to make up for whatever disadvantages age has left you with."

Armando gave a wry chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "Perhaps…" Sadness quickly stole over his features and he needed several seconds before he could compose himself back to neutrality. "However, had I known how things would turn out, I may have allowed nature to work its usual course and refrained. At my age…" Armando shook his head again. "At my age, I should have known better…"

Albus raised an eyebrow to that. "How so, Armando? While questionable for young adults to be having such nights with each passing whim, a single night for mature adults who would like comfort is nothing shameful. Especially as you are a widower, it is not as though you need worry about having dishonored a wife."

"No, it is not as though it was anything like that…" Armando agreed, though he was clearly not comforted.

After a minute of silence passed, with the Headmaster not seeming likely to speak again in the near future, Albus ventured with the cautious question- "I take it, given your upset state, that you've received word of something unfortunate happening to this woman you knew?"

Armando nodded once. Albus watched with a lack of surprise as the Headmaster picked up his snifter of brandy and drained the remaining contents in a long gulp. While Armando was a man who prided himself on his steadfastness, he could hardly be blamed for wishing to have a drink because of news that had clearly shaken him deeply. Albus waited patiently, knowing that this was not a matter to prod too hard at and risk upsetting his friend more than he was already.

Armando carefully placed his snifter back down on the desk, closed his eyes again and took a few more steadying breaths. He opened his eyes again and said levelly, though perhaps a bit quickly while he still had the nerve to say so. "As you've guessed, Albus, I received news that she passed away. I had not heard from her or about her all these years. And this news, coming from her sister, was quite belated in reaching me. Gardenia died eleven years ago. Her sister would not have contacted me at all, except that Gardenia died in childbirth…"

Albus's eyes widened again, absolutely flabbergasted as his brilliant mind had again failed to anticipate what he was to be told, given the high improbability that would have been Armando siring a child at such an advanced age.

Armando gave a small nod, as though to confirm his previous, and following, words. "Yes, aged as I am, I still was able to beget a child from a single night's interactions like some randy young man." He shook his head in self reproof. His voice dropped to a whisper, but it couldn't quite hide the faint tremor as he said, "And Lily would have kept such knowledge from me even now… Except, except that the girl has been ill." Armando blinked his eyes again to clear away a new film of tears that threatened to form. "They cannot find a cure for her failing health. Afraid to lose her as well, Lily wrote to me in hopes I can help the daughter I didn't know I had, or that I will know someone who can."

"Armando…" Albus said with deep sympathy, burying thoughts that attempted to rise of the tragic losses within his own family. "That is certainly not news that is easy to be given. I am truly sorry that such has come to pass. Do they know what is causing her illness?"

Armando nodded and lifted his head to meet his friend's blue eyed gaze again. "Yes, they do. And even knowing it myself, I have only vague thoughts on what may help her, each seeming more implausible than the one before."

"Well, perhaps the two of us putting our brilliant minds together, we shall think of something sure to aid her," Albus said, trying to lift his friend's spirits without giving too much false hope as he didn't know yet what complications they had to deal with. "What sort of ailment has the girl contracted?"

Armando glanced at the brandy snifter as though he might pour himself another glass, but he refrained and instead shifted his gaze back to the letter. He gave a heavy sigh, again. "That's the complication, my friend. She hasn't contracted an ailment. She was born with her illness, though it has only surfaced recently."

"Rather than attempt to guess at what illness she might have been born with," Albus said carefully, realizing this was more complicated than the elder wizard was yet revealing, "perhaps you should tell me. As you have asked for my assistance, though I am not a Healer, I'm guessing that this is no ordinary illness and requires a broader range of proficient knowledge."

Armando nodded. "As usual, you are correct, Albus." He lifted his dark gaze, again, and said ambivalently, "Gardenia, the girl's mother, was not a witch…"

It took every bit of self-control Albus had to keep a passive expression at this announcement. It was clear it was likewise taking Armando a great deal of self-control to make this confession calmly, the least he could do is not make his friend feel too ashamed to speak. However, Armando's next words broke his resolve to show no reaction.

"…She was a rather powerful dryad who was capable of being a great deal further from her home than most of her kind."

Albus's jaw slackened, though didn't drop, as his eyes widened. Armando saw the reaction and lowered his head in clear shame, body tensing further as his left hand curled into a tight fist.

"A dryad?" Albus asked quietly, not quite believing what he had just been told.

"Yes."

Albus blinked a few times. "Muggles have inter-bred with dryads and other nature creatures over the millennia, but there are no documented cases of a child born of a wizard and a dryad. It's not considered possible, due to our conflicting types of magic."

"Yes, I know," Armando said briefly, conflicted emotions apparent in his tone. "It was part of why I thought no harm could come from one night of indulging in companionship with so lovely a creature as Gardenia."

The transfiguration professor leaned back in his chair. After a few minutes of recollecting his thoughts, forcing himself to absorb this information and process it analytically, he said clinically, though not unkindly, "So your daughter's conflicting heritages have caused some sort of illness to manifest?"

Tension released enough within Armando that his knuckles were no longer straining and turning white, relieved that his friend was as quick to adapt as he was and concentrating on the dilemma at hand, rather than casting words of condemnation or attempting to refute what was possible or not. Armando nodded again. "Yes." He had to clear his throat because the word had waivered, then repeated as he looked back up, "Yes. Lily says that when Amaryllis was born…"

"Amaryllis would be the girl?"

Armando simply nodded.

"A beautiful name," Albus said sincerely.

Armando nodded again. "A beautiful name for what was apparently a beautiful baby. When she was born, her mother had a great difficulty in delivering her; obviously, as she didn't survive. However, Amaryllis was born seeming as healthy as any child could be. Gardenia had commented during our short time together that she had heard of the amaryllis plant, but had never seen the species because of its location in Africa that was too far for her to travel to and the difficulties in transplanting it. I conjured a bouquet with the variant reds and pinks, charming it to not wilt so she might keep them for as long as I lived as a reminder of the old wizard she had likewise charmed. Our daughter's rosy coloring reminded her of the flowers and she named her just before dying."

Albus nodded in acknowledgement. "A gesture that is as full of love for the new life she had given birth to as it is of bittersweet irony because of the legend attached to the flowers."

Armando gave a nod, then shook his head with a faint wistful smile. "She was quite sharp in wit, but I know she gave the child the name with only kind intentions."

"And what has since happened to Amaryllis?" Albus asked carefully.

Armando's expression clouded over. "Over the last several years, she has shown signs of having magic such as ours, but she also had the natural gifts of dryads. Her mother's sisters thought that she'd be alright with her mixed blood and allowed her to grow as any other young dryad would. Last year, she should have begun to feel the pull to merge her magic with that of a tree that could ground her properly. She has not, nor can she try to more aggressively reach out with her magic to find an appropriate pairing."

The Headmaster gestured to the letter in front of him as he said with a trace of bitterness, and even more despair, "Lily writes that Amaryllis' health is beginning to fail. She grows slowly but noticeably weaker as time passes. Her mother was, as I said, very powerful and commanded a great deal of respect among various magical creatures, and Lily has made use of that influence to try helping Amaryllis. The tribe of centaurs who help guard the Italian forest they live in, and are their family's guardians, have been unable to put their vast medical knowledge to a cure for her. Upon that avenue yielding no results, Lily contacted many other non-human elders in hopes one may have some solution to Amaryllis's plight, and has met with failure. Lily thinks, partially due to evaluations that have been made by those elders, that because the blood of wizards run through her veins, it's tainted their magic and she will not be able to connect with a tree in a normal dryad fashion. She writes to ask if perhaps there is some way that Amaryllis could learn to make their sacred connection with the supplementation of wizarding potions or spells to influence that magic which she inherited from her wizard father. If not, they feel that she will not survive to mature adulthood and their direct bloodline will die with Amaryllis. As she is, like her foremothers, what they consider a direct daughter of Gaia, they are especially anxious about that possibility."

"I see…" Albus said contemplatively, interlacing his fingers and propping his chin on them, considering the matter. "That seems like a reasonable theory to come to as far as the source of the disruption, especially as she is of the age that our youth see spikes in their magic and are placed in appropriate schooling, though I'd need meet the girl myself to be certain as this is so unprecedented… And as I am skilled in alchemy, potion making, and a master of charms and transfiguration, I think that you agree with the initial diagnosis related and hope that perhaps I can create some sort of fusion of various elements of our magic to accomplish what the girl's aunt suggests?"

Armando nodded. "Do you think it is possible it may be done?"

Albus hesitated to answer the hopeful question, carefully weighing what little he knew of the situation with the great many things he knew of magic. "Honestly, my friend, I am not certain." He added, seeing grief flash in the Headmaster's eyes, "However, I believe there are a number of bits of magic that may be worked to fix this situation, and it is possible that perhaps one of them, or a combination, may do so. I can obviously make no promises in such uncertain circumstances. Also, while I may come up with a course to help her from short visits to see her, I believe that this is something I would need oversee with some consistency. I also believe the lasting solution for the girl, not simply a temporary management of symptoms, would actually need include her being brought here so she may learn our magic properly so she can control it and ultimately help herself."

Armando's eyebrows shot up, nearly reaching his receding hairline. "Y-you propose that we teach her magic? Here?"

Albus raised a single eyebrow archly. "She _is_ your daughter."

"She's also a dryad."

"Witch enough that our magic causes her this illness. If we can teach a half-goblin half-muggle-born, or entirely muggle-born, I should think we could teach the daughter of a pureblood wizard regardless of the other half of her bloodline."

Armando's eyebrows had yet to return from their impromptu escape north and he reached for his bottle of brandy, pouring himself a sizeable draft. After taking a long gulp, and his face relaxing enough that his eyebrows had lowered, he said shakily, "We'd be breaking several laws currently enforced if she was allowed to learn our magic and it was found out what her heritage was. Dryads were among those wild entities opposed to being categorized as 'Beings' like vampires and hags, and as magical beasts they are considered even further from humanoid than goblins, and certainly different from muggles."

Albus gave a wry smirk. "Well, as I don't have any desire to be confined to Azkaban, nor do I think you harbor such aspirations, I would suggest we proceed carefully in correspondence with the girl's aunt to make arrangements; and that we are even more cautious to keep both her heritage on her mother's side, and the exact nature of her illness, a secret once she is here."

"Helga help us; I don't know that we can come up with a way to accomplish that…" Armando muttered in severe consternation, head dropping to rest on his splayed hands, fingers lacing in his thinning hair.

Albus's smirk became recognizably mischievous. "I wouldn't be so certain of that, Armando. We're two of the most brilliant wizards of our respective ages, I'm sure we can come up with something convincing."

Armando shook his head ambivalently, then raised his head, laced his fingers together, and propped his chin on them. "I hope so. I owe it to her to at least try something to help her. I apologize for trying to drag you into this problem I created for myself, Albus, but I truly could think of no other who might have any ideas to help her."

"It's quite alright," Albus said cheerfully. "You may have presented me with one of the most delicate and challenging problems I have yet been posed, and I must confess intrigue as to the prospect of solving it. A little risk to do so is to be expected."

Armando gave a small, but genuine, smile. "Thank you, Albus. I knew I could count on you."

"You're quite welcome, Armando. I only hope I don't disappoint either of our expectations and can help the girl."

"I hope so as well."

"On a more pleasant note," Albus said with continued good humor, trying to lift his friend's spirits, "I believe congratulations are in order. You have a daughter, which is something to celebrate."

Armando gave a small, strained laugh. "Yes, yes I do…" He picked up his wand and conjured another snifter. A swish of the wand caused the bottle to pour brandy for the both of them. "Though, Merlin help me, even after all these years watching after all the children who come to us, I am at a loss on how to raise one of my own. Especially old as I am."

Albus took the snifter offered to him as he laughed at the nervous confession. "While I have not experienced being a parent, I'd dare say that no parent, regardless of age, quite knows how to go about raising their child." He took a polite sip of the brandy, allowing the fine vintage to settle on his tongue for a few moments before swallowing. "Very nice body to this brandy, Armando. But as I was saying, at least you have seen the full spectrum of what children can bring about from your time as Headmaster, so you have more experience than many parents. And she's not so young that you have to worry about running after a toddler to keep her out of trouble."

Armando nodded a bit to that and took a sip of his brandy as well. "I suppose that I should be thankful for that, yes. But that also means we're strangers to one another."

"You only comment on another advantage to this situation, my friend." To the Headmaster's confused expression, Albus said with a grin, "Around now is when adolescents and their parents seem to grow apart and become strangers to one another as the child discovers themselves. You two at least have no preconceived notions or ill history brought by angst, so you'll have a fresh slate to build from as she ages. With her coming to maturity in the school you are Headmaster of, you'll be present to bond with her now, unlike most parents who send their children to us."

Armando smiled wistfully to that and nodded again. "I suppose you are right on that. Thank you, Albus. I knew I was making the right choice in entrusting this matter to your knowledge."

Albus merely nodded and took another sip of his brandy.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** The random bits of language in this chapter that are not English are a fictional product for the magical beings speaking them. Before the magical beings meet with the wizards, they're mostly speaking that language, and Italian when that language doesn't have the proper terminology needed. They switch to English once speaking with the English wizards. I'm not writing this in two languages, then having to supply translations, so just letting you folks know that lingual tid bit.

 **Chapter 2**

In the darkness of an Italian forest, just an hour before nightfall, two figures walked side by side and amongst the trees roamed a number of magical creatures following as a guard.

The taller was still petite by human standards, standing just under five feet tall. She had sleek, chestnut brown hair that fell to her knees in voluminous waves and was her deeply tanned olivine skin's only cover besides the living vines that crept up her lithe legs and along her torso and arms. Lily's dark blue eyes were coolly surveying the trail before them, the nature spirit watchful for any signs of danger as she led her sister's daughter to the edge of her domain for their meeting.

The young girl had a pale hand raised to her deep red lips, covering the yawn that she was fighting back. She kept her violet gaze primarily on their twisting, treacherous path, except when her mother's sister spoke to her and she needed to show she was listening. Once Amaryllis was certain the yawn was successfully stifled, her hand lowered and she tugged uncomfortably at the airy shift-dress she had been forced to wear. Lily had insisted that she wear this and the ridiculous sandals because she couldn't mingle with the magic-folk without them. They apparently weren't comfortable with beings living as they were born and insisted in hiding themselves with clothing.

The dress- soft as it was for something made by non-magical humans, a blend of Chinese silk and Egyptian cotton that her mother had specially created and had worn when mingling with magic folk- was still irritating Amaryllis' skin, not used to things such as hems rubbing against her skin. She had a rash forming beneath her arm pits and it was beginning to sting. The sandals were little more than thin, flexible soles of shoes with delicate straps to keep them on her feet, but they were a damnable nuisance. Even with as minimal as the sandals were, she couldn't properly feel the ground she walked on with the soles of her feet, couldn't adjust her footing based on what she felt to retain her usual graceful balance. She had already tripped a few times during this three hour walk, much to Lily's frustration, and she wasn't keen on another fall and impatient words from her mother's sister. It added to her resentment of the sandals, compounded by the fact they were causing irritations around her ankles where the straps were rubbing. At least the soles of her feet were calloused from spending her life barefoot, so the sandals weren't causing undue irritations to the skin there. The arches of her feet weren't used to sandals, though, and were aching from not being able to stretch as they naturally did while walking.

Lily had already told her why they were making this trip, why she had to wear this mortal clothing, and that she needed to accept that she would be leaving the forest for the foreseeable future while the magic-folk tried to figure out a cure for her illness.

Amaryllis was being quiet about the matter at this time, but she hadn't been the least calm about the announcement when it had been made. The idea of leaving the forest her foremothers had been protecting for time innumerable and going to a place inhabited by magic-folk was terrifying. Reassurances that her sire and a friend of his would be watching after her well-being while amongst their kind was only somewhat placating. She had heard enough times from Lily and the others that she was ill because of her bloodline, one that she shouldn't have been able to possess. She knew that magic-folk were misers when it came to hoarding their magic and knowledge. While her sire and his friend were supposedly very powerful magic-folk with a great deal of influence, she knew that she was going to be in danger should anyone discover what she was. Lily had made certain to stress those points almost as much as the others regarding why she had to leave and risk such danger.

Amaryllis's left hand went to the leather sack hanging by her hip and she clutched it tightly. Inside were the few possessions she was bringing with her, the few things she truly had to call her own. The small bouquet of flowers her sire gave her mother, as proof of who she was to him; the small plait of braided hair from Chiero to present to the tribe in Scotland; the small flute Marku had carved for her, with Chiero's help, and given her for her birthday at the end of this past spring. There were some small tokens from her woodland friends: a handful of feathers fallen from the birds she played with- the tiny shining gold from a Snidget, the gleaming opalescent-black of a Magpie, the stiff, long chestnut from the wing of an Aethonan Pegasus, the stiff striped brown tailfeather of a Green Woodpecker, the golden brown from the wing of the younger Griffin who was on his second molting, the short yellow to white to black crest-feather from a Common Hoopoe, a brightly colored feather from each member of a flock of Fwoopers who had migrated to the safety of the nymph-guarded forest from Africa to escape poachers, and the same rainbow of colors of feathers from Hummingbirds who flitted about Lily's glade. There was also a small shining Selenite crystal found by the Bowtruckle who had made its nest in Lily's tree, a shed scale from the Hippocampus she swam with during the summers (something she had not been able to do this summer, due to her now fickle health), etc. These tokens, and Zephyr, who flew overhead, were all she'd have to remind her of the forest she had called home for the entirety of her short life up to this point.

Amaryllis was pulled from her morose thoughts by Lily stopping quickly and placing a hand in front of her to likewise stop her. Her violet gaze darted up to her elder, noting that Lily appeared to be listening to something with a great deal of tension. Before the young nymph could concentrate to see if she could hear whatever it was as well, she saw the tension ease from her mother's sister.

Lily's dark gaze met her sister's daughter's and she said briefly, "Chiero and Marku make their way to us. They must have come upon your sire and his friend."

Amaryllis swallowed against a lump that had formed in her throat and gave a small nod, trying to remain brave as the time to leave was now inescapably upon her. There was a flash of compassion on Lily's worried face, a softening in her gaze and a brief flicker of a smile. Though it wasn't much, it was reassuring to the younger nymph and she tried to smile back. Both of their gazes turned ahead, to where the sounds of approaching hoofs could be heard.

Less than a minute later, two figures came around the bend in the road. Like Lily and herself, one was taller than the other due to age. Chiero, the alpha of the centaur tribe, was a meter taller than her mother's sister, with a tawny body that blended almost seamlessly with his bronzed skin. His hair and tail were a dark brown that was nearly black, only just starting to show a few streaks of silvery grey to indicate his ascent to later middle age. By his side was his youngest son, Marku, who was almost a younger copy of his powerful sire, the colt already beginning to fill out with his newest adolescent growth spurt, except for their eyes. Chiero had deep blue eyes while Marku's were a dark brown, inherited from his mother.

The two centaurs came to a stop a few paces away. Chiero's attention went to Lily, but Marku's dark gaze found Amaryllis and he gave her a friendly smile that held a hint of wistfulness as they both knew this was the last time they'd see each other for nearly a year.

"We found the _Shnga_ ," Chiero said briskly, using the derogatory word his people had for magic-folk that came out as a sort of snort and rumble in his throat, "not far from the clearing arranged and led them to it."

Lily nodded once and said in her lilting voice, "Thank you, Chiero. I know you do not enjoy having to deal with magic-folk, but I appreciate all the aid you've given in arranging this meeting so it may go with a minimum of danger."

"Of course, _ahlamei_ ," the centaur said with a faint smirk to his lover. "She is your sister's daughter and I know you would be most aggrieved should something happen to her." Chiero's gaze went to his son and his smirk became a bit more pronounced, "As, I believe, Marku would be should his playmate remain ill."

A blush rushed upon the younger centaur's face, as did one on the younger nymph's as she ducked her head so her ebony hair could cover her face and reaction, and the former gave an indignant glare at his sire. The two elder beings chuckled at their embarrassed reactions and shared a knowing, amused glance.

"How do you feel, _Maha_?" Chiero asked the younger dryad, tone now more neutral.

"Well enough this eve, _Meranu,_ " Amaryllis replied quietly, lifting her head again to meet his gaze.

Chiero's gaze swept over her appraisingly and he frowned. "You look weary."

"It's been a long walk with these sandals to wear, but I am trying to adjust as _Salana mei_ suggested."

The alpha centaur's gaze went to his lover as he moved his bow and quiver of arrows from his back and slung them over one shoulder. "I think she's walked quite enough in those torture devices for one stretch, _ahlamei_. We will bring you the rest of the way and allow her a short rest. She needs her strength for the meeting and travel ahead with the _Shnga_."

Lily nodded her permission for the suggestion and walked next to her lover. He extended a hand and helped her lift herself the distance to his back. The agile dryad settled herself on his back and wrapped her arms around his chest with comfortable familiarity, giving him a brief kiss on the shoulder that wasn't supporting his weapon.

Marku walked up to Amaryllis and followed his sire's example. Amaryllis was thankful that, while shorter than Lily due to adolescence, her sire's blood meant she wasn't quite as short as most dryads her age, which meant that she didn't have to lift herself quite as proportionately high.

Marku chuckled as she settled herself, pulling her long wavy hair over her shoulder so she wouldn't be sitting on it, and murmured quietly, "Keep growing as you have, _ahlamei_ , and you won't need my help the next time I see you."

Amaryllis's blush returned brightly. They knew each other so well, from being near inseparable since they were small children, that they could practically read the other's mind without either having the gift of telepathy. She whispered back in his ear as her arms went around his chest, "That's not true, _ahlam_ , for you'll have grown as well."

Marku gave a proud smirk as he started to trot after his sire, who was a few dozen paces ahead of them already. "That is true." He shifted uncomfortably and Amaryllis moved her feet so the hard soles of her sandals weren't bumping his front legs. Marku said with an attempt at levity, though an undercurrent of concern was apparent, "Just make sure that your height and the cure for your illness is all you take away from the _Shnga._ Remember the rest of these trappings are only to blend in with them. I expect my _ahlamei_ to return the same enchanting creature she was before she left."

Amaryllis gave a small smile and leaned closer to nuzzle her face next to his. She said, just as quietly and with anxious sincerity, "I promise not to adapt more of their ways than I have to, _ahlam_. Just don't go falling for some filly while I'm gone. Otherwise, she might find herself breaking a leg on a stout root while gallivanting through the forest. And if you dare choose another nymph to guard, I promise I'll come back with my _Shnga_ magic and blow up her tree."

Marku laughed in genuine amusement at that, causing Lily to pointedly glance back at them in silent reminder that they needed to be wary. Even with their escorts and their own innate gifts, the forests were growing more dangerous as the non-magical humans had their conflicts sprouting up and the magic-folk were waging their war. Their forest had yet to be directly involved in outside problems, but there had been a fight that took place not far from the borders between two groups of magic-folk. The last few moon cycles had harbored the lingering fear that such peace they currently had could be broken at any moment. They were much closer to the boundaries of the forest than they would care to be and couldn't be certain they might not stumble across a threat.

Once Lily was satisfied they'd remain quiet and had turned around, Marku placed a hand on Amaryllis', giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, _ahlamei_ ," he murmured to the dryad who had tensed again. "I wouldn't think of replacing you, and I will be waiting when you come back. It's less than a sun-cycle and then we will see each other again. Even if you have to return a few more times until you are better, a few years will be nothing compared to the centuries we'll have once you are well."

Amaryllis tightened her hold on him and rest her head against his shoulder. "I truly hope so, _ahlam_. Please stay safe while I'm gone."

Marku turned a bit so he could kiss the top of her head. "I will, _ahlamei_. I will."

The remaining travel to the clearing, taking almost half an hour, passed in anxious silence, both concerned for the uncertain future and wishing that all would turn out as they hoped for.

Amaryllis knew when they were drawing near the clearing, as she started noticing the occasional centaur scout standing post just off the path. Her grip on Marku tightened again, fear spiking as she realized the moment of parting was about to arrive. Marku's arms came to rest on hers and he held them tight. A few minutes passed and then Chiero came to a halt.

Marku stopped a few paces behind his sire and released his hold on Amaryllis so he could help her to her feet. She kept hold of his hand even after she was standing again, tears starting to well up in her eyes. Marku's dark gaze met hers and she could see that he was trying to keep his unhappiness from showing as well.

"It's just a single cycle of the sun, _ahlamei_ ," he said quietly.

Amaryllis nodded and said shakily, "I know."

Marku raised her hand and gave a gentle kiss to the back of it, eyes staying on the dryad as he did so. "I will be here when you return."

Tears started to slip down Amaryllis' cheeks, despite her attempts to hold them at bay. She whispered in confession, "I don't want to leave, _ahlam_."

Marku gave her hand a squeeze. "I know…" The young centaur's voice cracked slightly, and not because he was at the threshold of puberty. He cleared his throat and said more steadily, "I know you don't want to leave, _Maha,_ but you have to. You're the daughter of Gardenia, who was daughter of The Silver Rose, who was the daughter of Dahlia, whose lineage can continue being traced back to Terra herself. If your foremothers could face all manner of threats here in the forest with their heads held high, protecting those who relied on them, you can make this journey and come home stronger for it."

Amaryllis nodded, trying to find courage as he was encouraging her to. After several seconds, she managed to stem the flow of tears and wiped them away with her free hand. She said quietly, but with resolution, "I'll try to make everyone proud. I'll have many stories to tell you when I come home, I'm sure."

Marku gave a small smile and nodded. "Yes, you will." He gave a final kiss to the back of her hand and then released it. "I will see you next summer, _ahlamei_. Fare well until we meet again."

"Farewell, _ahlam,_ until we meet again," Amaryllis said. Before her resolve to remain brave could break, she gave a fleeting smile and then turned to where her mother's sister and the alpha centaur were patiently waiting for her. Lily gave her a small nod and beckoned her forward with a hand gesture.

As she approached, Chiero asked, "You have the braid I gave you, and remember the words I told you, yes?"

Amaryllis nodded. "Yes, I have it here," she gestured to the small sack, "and I remember your instructions. I will be sure to present myself when we arrive in Scotland."

Chiero gave a reassuring smile. "Very good, _Maha_. It will ease all our hearts to know you'll also have guardians of our own kind for the duration you are there, so mind your manners with the Scot tribe."

Amaryllis nodded her understanding. "I will try my best to not cause any upsets, _Meranu_ , I promise."

Chiero affectionately patted the top of her head. "I know you will, _Maha_. Fare well until we meet again."

"I will miss you, _Meranu_ ," Amaryllis said, once again having to battle with the urge to cry, though this time she did manage to keep the tears from falling. "Fare well until we meet again."

Chiero nodded and took a step away. Amaryllis felt her mother's sister's hand slip into hers. She turned her attention to her elder.

Lily said calmly, "It is time, _Maha,_ to meet your sire and his friend. Are you ready?"

Amaryllis blinked back the wetness in her eyes, took a few bracing breaths, then nodded. "Yes, _Salana,_ I believe I'm ready."

Lily gave a small smile, pride reflecting in her eyes now. "Good girl, _Maha._ " And with that, she led the younger dryad the short distance to the clearing where the two magic-folk had been waiting.

As they stepped through the last of the trees, Amaryllis was able to spot the two men immediately, despite the fact that the sun had nearly disappeared over the horizon and dusk was upon them. One of them, she didn't know which, had conjured a small blue fire that was flickering in the air before them, drawing her attention and making their features more plainly visible.

The one to the right was taller, with flowing cerulean robes covering his slender frame. His auburn hair was loose and tumbled over his shoulders, and matched the trimmed beard he had. He was wearing a pair of half-moon spectacles that sat on a crooked long nose and his light blue eyes peered at her and Lily with curiosity and friendliness.

The one to the left was just under a head shorter than his companion, still quite tall for a human, though neither was as tall as Chiero. He was also far more aged than the other, face bearing wrinkles and his thinning hair and bushy beard were white as snow. He wore more formal looking robes of black that made his build harder to deduce. His dark eyes were watching them with a more reserved, almost somber, expression.

Amaryllis gulped nervously and her pace slowed. Lily gave her hand a small squeeze and then a tug to indicate for her to keep up. Amaryllis martialed what tenuous courage she had and resumed her previous pace. She tried to drum up some semblance of curiosity, wondering which of these magic-folk was the sire she had never met. She tried to drum up a sense of excitement, as she'd be going to a new land and having the chance to experience a different culture, and would eventually come home with stories to tell. Despite those efforts, she couldn't quite shake her fear of the unknown, her unease at the thought of leaving her home.

Her mother's sister brought them to a stop a few meters away, standing a step ahead of Amaryllis protectively. The two magic-folk inclined their heads in greeting.

The elder man said to the elder dryad, voice quiet yet carrying the resonance of a formidable will, "Good evening. You must be Lily, sister of Gardenia. I am Armando Dippet, and this," he gestured to the taller man, "is my dear friend and colleague, Albus Dumbledore."

Lily's measuring gaze went between the two, and Amaryllis knew her mother's sister was not just observing their outward appearance, but also reading what she could of their auras. Amaryllis could sense a human's aura to a small extent, but she wasn't old enough to see them and get a clear idea of what she was sensing. Animals were far easier to sense. She had to rely primarily on mundane senses at this time, and she wasn't quite sure what she thought of these two men yet. The one who was her sire, the elder magic-folk, seemed a rather stern being. Of course, Chiero often seemed stern to outsiders, and this man was a stranger in their land, so perhaps this was just his demeanor in such a strained situation. The other magic-folk, the younger one, he seemed a bit less intimidating, watching the interactions with continuing pleasant humor.

Despite her personal reservations, apparently her mother's sister was to some extent satisfied by what she saw in the man who spoke, as she gave a small bow of her head in respect. "I am Lily, and greetings to you, Armando Dippet and Albus Dumbledore. Thank you, Armando, for answering my correspondences with such good faith and speed. And thank you, Albus, for helping us with this matter."

"It was the least that could be done in these circumstances," the older magic-folk said soberly as his companion gave a small bow of his head. "I was genuinely saddened to hear of Gardenia's passing. While the news was unexpected that she had given birth to a daughter, I am not displeased with the thought, though concerned for her welfare given what you've related of her recent illness. If I can help my daughter back to health, I will do so."

Lily nodded once and said briefly, though not unkindly, "I truly hope you will be able to help us."

Armando's gaze went the younger nymph. "And you, little one, would be Amaryllis?"

Amaryllis froze, not expecting to be addressed quite yet. She glanced up at her mother's sister.

Lily nodded and took a step to the side. She said calmly, speaking the woodland language, " _Ea kel, frent terr sennara, Maha_."

Amaryllis swallowed nervously again and then looked to her sire, who had been watching them with a placid expression. When her attention turned to him, he gave her a smile, but she could tell he was also nervous about this meeting because that smile seemed a bit wavering. At least she wasn't the only one uncomfortable. "Y-y-yes…" She had to pause a moment to collect her nerve because the word had barely come out as a whisper and had been too shaky for even her to understand. She managed to say more steadily, "Yes, I am Amaryllis."

The elder man beckoned her forward with a gesture. After an encouraging nod from her mother's sister, who also released her hand, Amaryllis took a few small steps closer.

Her sire crouched down so he was at a closer eye-level with the child. His gaze roamed her face a few seconds and his expression softened noticeably. "Your aunt was correct. You have much of your mother in you, but there's a bit of me in your features as well. Thankfully, that's only a small part, and you're likely to grow to be as lovely as your mother was."

The young dryad blinked rapidly in surprise to the teasing comment that poked fun of himself, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassed pride at the compliment. Her mother was reportedly a great beauty, even among their kind, and to be compared to her in even a lesser extent was an honor.

Armando continued with sincerity, yet more seriousness, "It's an unexpected but welcome pleasure to meet you, Amaryllis. I know this situation will take some adjusting to for the both of us as we are strangers to one another at this time, but I hope you will come to not mind my company terribly much as we get to know one another."

Amaryllis nodded slowly. "I…" Her response trailed off, not certain exactly what to say that would accurately portray the confused thoughts racing in her head. She wasn't exactly sure what she expected of the magic-folk who was her sire, nor was she sure what she hoped for besides finding some way to stop her illness from getting any worse. She wasn't sure exactly how magic-folk interacted with their parents, especially as dryads weren't raised with their sires in normal circumstances. And her mother had died giving birth to her. While her mother's sisters raised her with love and as best as they could, that was still a little different than having her actual mother. Now her sire was going to be taking her from her home, and she wasn't sure if she was tentatively curious to know more about the man her mother had cared about, or if she was simply terrified to be leaving her home and just about everyone she knew behind.

Her sire gave a wistful smile as she remained silent, gaze still meeting hers. "It's alright, child. This is still a lot for you to take in and I understand that…"

Amaryllis gaped at the magic-folk in surprise as he continued talking, because it seemed as though he had read her mind. Or was he just that observant? Or was she just that obvious?

"…I am on unfamiliar grounds as well with being a father and we shall try to sort things out together." Armando carefully eased himself back to standing, a few joints making audible creaks and pops as he straightened his back. He gestured to his companion. "As I said to your aunt, this is my friend, Albus Dumbledore. He will be one of your professors at the school I am the Headmaster of. He is the only one who will know the precise details of our unorthodox situation and he has kindly agreed to lend his vast expertise to helping us in our endeavor to see you well again."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Amaryllis," the younger magic-folk said, light blue eyes gazing at her with almost a twinkle in the magical fire light.

Amaryllis gave him a shy nod and said, "N-nice to meet you as well."

Armando asked of the older nymph, "I believe you said there was one other we'd be bringing with us?"

Lily nodded and her gaze turned upwards to the sky as she gave a whistling screech. The seemingly tiny blur that had been circling high above began to descend. Within seconds, the falcon became more clearly visible. It was a smaller breed, about a foot long, with a two foot wing span.

A chuckle came from the younger magic-folk as the dark silver-grey falcon went not to the dryad who had called it, but to the younger, who held out her arm for it to land on. "A merlin…" Albus said through his laughter, having not been told what sort of falcon his friend's daughter had wanted to bring with her. "Of course it would be. How appropriate, wouldn't you say, Armando?"

The elder smirked and nodded, then asked the young nymph, who was stroking the bird's head, "And what is this fine familiar's name?"

Amaryllis looked up from the falcon, feeling a bit more at ease now that he had joined them. "This is Zephyr, one of my closest friends the last three summers. _Salana mei_ said he could come with me."

Armando nodded agreement again. "Yes, he may. Owls are customarily the family of birds allowed to students as familiars or message carriers, but the Headmaster of Hogwarts may make exceptions on a case by case basis. As I am the Headmaster, I'm willing to make an exception as you already have a bond with this falcon, merlins are a smaller breed to handle, and you are not from our little island to have picked from the usual familiars…"

"Familiars?" Amaryllis interrupted, not understanding the term as it was being used by the magic-folk.

"Yes, familiars," her sire said informatively. "It is our way of referring to an animal that a witch or wizard has formed a bond and partnership with, that is a bit closer than a mere pet. Various subspecies of merlin are found in Britain and Scotland, so I feel he should be fine being introduced to the environment and will be under no hardship to travel the distance for correspondences as merlins are used to migrating such distances. Your closeness with him will also not be unusual for a witch and her familiar, though we speak to our familiars in a human language, so I need ask you to be careful about doing so when in front of others."

"I can do that. Zephyr is a smart bird, especially because of our connection, and I've taught him enough Italian, Greek and English to be able to understand those who he's brought messages to," Amaryllis said with a grateful smile for the confirmation that she'd at least be able to bring Zephyr with her on this trip, even if she could only speak with him in the language of dryads in private.

The merlin felt tension easing from her and crab-walked up her arm, careful not to puncture her skin with his sharp talons, until he came to rest on her shoulder, one set of talons grasping the strap of her bag for better purchase. Amaryllis gave a calming chirp at him and he nuzzled at her cheek and then nipped at her ebony hair playfully, causing her to giggle and stroke his head again.

The two magic-folk smiled as they watched the exchange. The younger said to his companion, "I believe after adjusting to certain cultural differences, she'll find herself quite at home at Hogwarts."

Armando nodded. "We can certainly continue to hope so." His gaze went back to Lily. "Is there anything needing to be discussed that we did not cover in our correspondences? I know you and your companions must be anxious to return to your homes, and we should be making our way back as well."

Lily shook her head. "No, for now, I believe all that needed to be said has been said and she has everything she is bringing with her." The elder dryad turned her gaze to her sister's daughter. "It is time for you to go with your sire, _Maha_ , but remember that you can send Zephyr to us if you need to, and we will see you when this school session has passed. Listen to your sire and his friend while you are in their care, learn what they ask you to learn, and hopefully we will have you well again soon."

Amaryllis had stopped petting the falcon and didn't notice him gently nipping her hand in protest as she met her elder's gaze. She gave a small nod, feeling tears again forming as her departure from even her mother's sister was now taking place. "I-I will try my best, _Salana_."

Lily bent down and gave the younger nymph a kiss on the cheek. Their gazes met as the elder said in their language, "I know you will, _Maha_ , and I am very proud of you for being brave enough to go forward with this plan." Lily gave Amaryllis another kiss on the cheek as tears started to fall from the latter's eyes. "It will be okay. Remain strong and remember that our hearts are with you even when we cannot be." The elder nymph looked at the falcon then and said, sounding like a bird herself now, " _You chose to go with her. Remember I trust you to protect her._ "

Zephyr gave a small screech of fierce agreement and then rested his head next to the younger nymph's.

Lily nodded and straightened her stance. "Fare well, _Maha_ , until we meet again."

Amaryllis said in a quavering voice, "Fare well, _Salana_ , until we meet again."

Lily nodded for her to go to her sire and stepped away. The younger nymph looked back at the magic-folk.

"Are you ready?" Armando asked her, voice quieter and a look of sympathy on his face.

Amaryllis gave a small nod, not trusting herself to speak without potentially breaking down completely.

"You will need to give Zephyr to Albus," Armando instructed. At her look of panic, which caused the bird to ruffle its feathers in concern, he quickly explained, "It will only be for a minute, little one. I will be transporting you by magic to our island. Albus is quite skilled in handling animals, especially birds, and he'll ensure that your falcon is sedate and transported safely with us. You can have Zephyr back as soon as we arrive, and I promise you he will be unharmed."

Amaryllis looked between the two magic-folk with a great deal of uncertainty, and they were watching her cautiously to see what she would do.

"It's okay, _Maha_ ," she heard her mother's sister say from behind, where she had moved to. "Remember what I told you."

To listen to my sire, Amaryllis finished the thought, sniffling a bit because her nose was getting stuffy from her crying. She looked to the taller one, Albus, with a wary expression, lips pressed tightly together for a few seconds before speaking. "Can you honestly promise he'll be okay? You're the one who is using magic on him, not my sire."

The magic-folk didn't seem to take offense to the question, her sire raising an eyebrow and the friend chuckling.

"Yes, I can promise you, I am skilled enough that bringing a bird along with me, and seeing to it that he experiences no undue discomfort, is well within my capabilities."

Amaryllis sighed and looked at Zephyr. Meeting his golden yellow gaze, she chirped at him, relaying that the taller male was going to be carrying him for a minute while magic was cast and to behave.

The bird's keen gaze went to the magic-folk in question and he gave a small acceding nod of his head. She stroked his head and then carefully removed him from her shoulder. Zephyr squirmed a little in her hands, but allowed himself to be handed over to the magic-folk without putting up a fight.

Albus stroked the bird's head with one hand as he held it carefully around the waist with the other. He murmured a few words as he did so, words Amaryllis didn't understand. A pale blue light radiating from his hand and to the falcon, and the falcon fell asleep in his arms. "There now, he won't even notice we've left until we've already arrived."

Amaryllis could tell the bird was asleep, not dead, because she could see Zephyr breathing and his aura remained steady around him. She gave a shaky sigh of relief and then looked at her sire.

Armando held out a hand. She looked at it warily, wondering if she was going to be put to sleep as well. He sighed, but said patiently, "You'll just need take my hand so we can be on our way, and it would be best to close your eyes. Apparition can be disorienting for those not used to it. You'll feel a tugging sensation in the vicinity of your abdomen, and then a bit of a squeezing feeling. Moments later, we'll be at my estate in London, where we need do some shopping for you, and then we'll be able to travel by less abrupt means to Scotland before the school year starts."

"Is that how you came here?"

"We apparated from Scotland to the town near this forest, yes. As we had not been to this location before, we had to make the rest of the journey on foot. As I know my home, we're able to return directly there."

Amaryllis looked at his hand again. "Is this going to hurt?"

"No, it will not hurt," her sire said with a small smile. "It will just be a rather strange experience for you that may make you feel a bit disoriented. Traveling from one place to another in so swift a time tends to be like that. You'll get used to it with time and when you're older you may be able to learn to do so on your own."

Amaryllis reached out and put her hand in her sire's, noticing his skin was dry and seemingly fragile with age. He held her hand in a strong grasp, though, for one of his years, and pulled her closer to his side.

"Close your eyes, Amaryllis, and before you know it, we'll be there."

Amaryllis turned her gaze to her mother's sister. The dryad gave a reassuring smile that would have bewitched any mortal, but the girl saw unshed tears in her dark blue eyes. Before she could consider darting away and back to her elder, Lily waved briefly and then turned away, walking back towards the forest. Amaryllis felt more tears stream down her cheeks as her sire's other arm wrapped around her, the wide sleeve of his robe blocking her view.

"It's going to be alright, child. Now close your eyes."

Amaryllis gave a small sob but closed her eyes and buried her face in her sire's robes. She had time to notice that his robes smelled like old parchment, ink and, faintly, gardenias; then a strange, hard pull was felt in her stomach and she lost all sense of self and direction as she felt squished into a vortex and pulled through space.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Disorientating", Amaryllis decided, was a misleading way of describing apparition. Utterly sickening was how she found it best described, as her already upset stomach heaved its contents onto the ground a bare few seconds after they arrived in London. Her sire kindly held her hair back for her and reassured her that while some people found it more difficult to adjust to that mode of travel, one did become more accustomed to it the more they experienced it. Amaryllis was in no condition to hear that, however, and swore that she'd never travel by such means again, regardless of how quick it was. The fact that such a means of travel was likely how she'd be returning home next summer was something she chose not to think about at that time.

Once her stomach was done evacuating itself, her sire made the mess vanish from his yard with a wave of his wand, and a second wave of his wand at her mouth removed the remnants for her. Albus reversed whatever magic he had done to Zephyr and she gladly accepted the merlin back into her care. Zephyr was no worse for the travel, merely confused as his keen senses could register he was not remotely near their home. At least one of them had had an easy time of it.

It was just before sundown in London, due to being further west than where they had come from.

"Perhaps we should retire inside the manor for the time being," Armando suggested mildly. "Some tea might help to settle your nerves."

Amaryllis gave him a wry look and said with more irritation than she meant, "Unless that tea has a passable wine, ale or mead in it, I don't think it's going to help my nerves."

Armando's eyebrows flew up and he sputtered a bit in surprise.

"If memory serves me correctly," Albus said with laughter evident in his voice, "dryads and other forest denizens allow their children to have moderate amounts of alcohol, especially for medicinal purposes, much as muggles of the Mediterranean do."

"W-well, perhaps they do," Armando said, recovering his wits mostly. "However, children here do not drink and allowing her to would constitute child abuse."

Amaryllis was now thoroughly confused. "How is it abusive to allow me a drink of alcohol?"

"Because of the effects alcohol can have on the body," her sire stated.

"I wasn't asking to become mindlessly intoxicated," the dryad said indignantly. "And we have far more tolerance naturally to alcohol's effects than most mortals do."

"Even still," Armando said definitively, "it's not appropriate for a young witch, which you also are, to be drinking. As you are here, you do need to follow our laws."

Amaryllis remembered her mother's sister's directions to listen to her sire and make whatever efforts were needed to blend in, so she pursed her lips together, biting on her lower lip a bit, to keep herself from arguing the point further. She really didn't think, despite the magic-folk's feelings to the contrary, that she was going to enjoy having to blend in with magic-folk if this was just a taste of how it would be. Uncomfortable clothing that gave her rashes and made the arches of her feet ache; utterly sickening modes of travel; and a ridiculous ban on alcohol for those on their way to adulthood, as if she was a babe still nursing.

Unfortunately for her, her intuition ended up being proven somewhat accurate over the course of the next few days.

It's not to say that she was mistreated. Her sire had attempted to have a bedroom prepared for her, for the duration that they'd be in London before leaving for the school that he oversaw. He had been informed of those foods native to dryads and had his servants prepare them as closely as they could to try to help minimize the culture shock while they accustomed her to other things.

And her sire's friend, Albus, had gone to a magic-folk market, now that they knew what she looked like and her approximate build, the morning after their arrival. The kind, and clearly a bit flamboyant, professor purchased her a few sets of very fine witch's robes, made of silk and magically enhanced to be even softer than they'd already naturally be, in colors that complimented her features. He also purchased a different sort of footwear, something that her sire said looked like slippers (which she was entirely clueless as to), but Albus insisted was inspired from muggle (which she learned was their word for a non-magical human) ballet dancer's footwear. The magic-folk version was just as thin and flexible, but the soles were magically treated to be more durable. Armando allowed his friend's choices to remain when Amaryllis stated that the flowing robes were far less irritating to her skin, and that the shoes looked as though they'd be a great deal less painful to wear than her current sandals.

Zephyr was also allowed to come and go as he pleased and, after establishing dominance with her sire's owl, had even found himself a playmate. He was allowed to hunt what he was hungry for and Amaryllis thought he might get a bit spoiled because her sire would give him little treats when he'd return in the evenings. The dryad was happy to see her friend settling in well enough and was thankful he had wanted to come with her.

That said, there were a number of things over the next few busy days that were extraordinarily frustrating for Amaryllis to try adjusting to.

The bedroom that had been prepared for her was well appointed for a witch, no doubt, and her sire had purchased comfortable bedding. However, she wasn't used to sleeping in a bed. And she was especially not used to being in enclosed spaces for long periods of time. She was used to being outside, sleeping in leafy bowers her mother's sisters created for her. Even with as spacious as her sire's manor was by magic-folk standards, it was still claustrophobic to the nymph. Her sire had been greatly upset their first morning to find her bed empty and having to use his magic to eventually locate her whereabouts- the small copse of trees at the back of his estate. She had been awoken by her out of breath and unhappy sire, and genuinely didn't understand just why he was so upset that she had made herself a sleeping spot because she didn't want to wake him so late in the evening to tell him the bed he had provided wasn't allowing her to rest.

She had had to suffer attempting to sleep in it since then because it wasn't considered proper for her to sleep outside. Albus and her sire had tried to make the bed more comfortable for her by transfiguring parts of it to seem more like a bower, expanding the window in her bedroom to encompass an entire wall, and putting a skylight window in the ceiling. She appreciated the effort, but she was told she'd have to sleep in a normal bed once they were at Hogwarts, like all the other students did, and depending on her house her dormitory may be without bedroom windows.

Amaryllis had to give the chefs credit for their cooking skills. They made meals that were fairly simple fare that she could recognize- haunches of meat seasoned with herbs, or plates of fresh fish, with fresh vegetables and fruits, and some sort of light side of rice or freshly baked bread. But when the dryad found out during their first dinner together that the meals were being cooked by elves being kept as slaves (he called them servants), no matter how well her sire said he treated them, she was horrified. They had had a rather heated argument on the matter, that led to the young dryad calling magic-folk barbaric and fleeing the dining room for the lightly wooded area outside.

Armando had found her hiding up a tree, crying over the arrangement she viewed as an injustice to the elves, whose wild cousins she had grown up knowing and was now imagining being forced to live in servitude. He wasn't able to convince her otherwise on the matter, and eventually the elderly magic-folk went back to his manor to converse with his friend.

A short time later, Albus found her in the woods, well after evening had fallen, and had brought the entirety of the 'house elf' staff with him to talk to the upset nymph.

After hearing their accounts of how kindly her sire treated them, accounts of how poorly some magic-folk and magical beings treated elves, and the elves making many reassurances that they were far happier serving her sire in the manor than even potentially being free because they had grown to very much enjoy being in their urban environment and its conveniences, Amaryllis was finally coaxed down from her hiding spot. She returned with Albus and the house elves to her sire's home and made an apology to the weary elderly man for her outburst and harsh words.

That fiasco had lasted most of the night and had led to the entire household sleeping in until late morning. After thinking on the matter with a clearer head, and seeing how exhausted her sire appeared when they sat down for a late breakfast, Amaryllis resolved to try to be less judgmental about the world he came from and try harder to see things from his point of view, as it was the view of those she would be encountering. Which was, as much as she wasn't keen on admitting it, half of her own heritage, and a better understanding of it was necessary if she was to survive amongst them.

After their initial settling in period the first two days, the next three weeks had been filled with Armando trying to teach her to speak more like a witch and less like a dryad so that she wouldn't say anything too out of place. He was also giving her tutorials on basic wizarding knowledge; such as what the "Ministry of Magic" was and how it operated, or what the "Daily Prophet" that he received each morning was for. He explained current events she was likely to hear about, or gave her tidbits of insight to commonly known wizarding history that she might hear references to. He explained a great deal about Hogwarts and how it was run, as that was where he devoted much of his time to and they'd be primarily living there.

In between those lessons to prepare her for mingling with other witches and wizards, (not "magic-folk", she was reminded on several occasions, and most certainly not " _Shnga_ ",) Albus was having her give detailed accounts of how she used her gifts from her dryad bloodline, what ways wizarding magic had spontaneously manifested, and was having her try to perform some basic challenges as some sorts of tests that he felt would help him gauge her situation. Amaryllis was confused by a great deal of the last, along with his occasional mutters to himself about her energy patterns. She could only guess that the professor was able to sense out her energy to a far more acute degree than she could, and was trying to understand it better to gain some insight into why specifically she could not connect to a sacred tree as she needed to, why exactly that was so important for a dryad's survival because wizards didn't need to do so, and was therefore having the recurring bouts of illness that were leading to longer periods of weakness.

She hadn't fallen ill since her arrival, which she was naturally relieved about. Sometimes, as she relayed to him, she'd be ill a few short times in a month (not "moon cycle"), or on one occasion she had been ill for an entire month straight, or she could go a few months without falling ill. But the periods of time where she wasn't ill were shrinking over the last year (not "sun cycle") or so. Albus seemed especially interested in the fact that, though she was unable to connect to a sacred tree for grounding herself, which should mean that her energy was unstable and going through spikes and drops depending on her usage of it, they had noticed she seemed to feel better temporarily after participating in the solar festivals- such as the one just past for the summer solstice, just a few days before she had departed to England with her father, (not "sire")- when a great deal of energy was being drawn in and then used.

The professor commented that while he didn't wish for her to somehow make herself ill, being able to observe her while she was having one of her periods of weakness, and directly before and after one of the festivals, would allow him to take note of what changed and hopefully form conjectures as to the root of the problem. Which could lead to solving it, or at least easing the symptoms while they looked for a solution. He instructed her to be certain that if she should feel anything abnormal beginning, to make her father (not "sire") or himself aware of it immediately, not to try to hide it or ignore it. Even if it ended up being a fluke, or a result of a particularly tiring day that was remedied with some rest, they wanted to keep records of her health to hopefully discover a pattern in what was exacerbating her illness. If they could keep her health fairly stable, that would undoubtedly give them far more time to find a way to help her make a connection to a sacred tree.

While she hadn't fallen ill again since her arrival, Amaryllis still had a hard time remaining happy in London. She was extremely homesick, having never been away from her aunt (not "mother's sister", though _Salana_ was okay as it sounded like it was her name), and never going more than a few days without seeing the centaurs. She missed her woodland friends and she simply missed the forest itself. When she wasn't having one of her lessons with her father or Albus, or studying something they had asked her to, she was spending time with Zephyr or the house elves; though she was still having trouble fully reconciling in her mind the differences between them and their wild cousins. Even still, they were at least something that reminded her of home and she was born a social being. She didn't like being completely alone for long stretches of time.

She had to sleep in the bed at night, but her father allowed her to go outside in between lessons, or sometimes allowed lessons to be held outside, to help keep her from feeling stir crazy. But again, she was warned that at Hogwarts most all the classes were held in the castle and exceptions couldn't be made. She would be held to the same standard as the other students and need attend the classes where they were traditionally held. Amaryllis understood the reasoning and didn't want special treatment that would arouse people's suspicions or cause trouble with the other students and herself, but she wasn't happy being isolated from natural surroundings to even a small extent and knowing that it would increase once the school year started.

Overall, she was having a very difficult time remaining positive throughout the last three weeks, even though she was trying her best to do as instructed and make the best of being in this foreign country. She had been fighting her way through small bouts of depression that led to her crying and wanting to go home, especially during the first week; but those eventually tapered off and she was left with a general apathy for her situation that was only broken by bits of entertainment when Zephyr or the house elves managed to cheer her up. Even if they were quite different from the wild elves because they had adapted to urban surroundings and being servants, some things never changed, and elves hated seeing others unhappy. Amaryllis appreciated their efforts and tried to follow their example and adapt so she wasn't causing them (or herself) more unnecessary stress.

After three weeks had passed with such activities, 23 days after her arrival to London, the two wizards deemed the young half-blood witch socially ready to make her first foray into the larger wizarding community, and felt that getting her out of the house and into new surroundings for a short time might raise her spirits. They apparently had need to buy her more personal items, along with her magical and school supplies, and Armando had some errands he had been neglecting in favor of trying to help his half-blood daughter adjust. Albus had some personal matters to attend to, along with wanting to delve into his library for books to cross-reference with his growing pile of notes on Amaryllis, and took his leave of them for the time being.

"How are we going to be getting to this wizard's market?" Amaryllis asked her father as they finished putting their shoes on. As she put hers on, she was again wishing the greatest blessings on Albus for buying these little silk slipper-shoe things that were so much easier to tolerate than sandals.

"A very useful invention called 'Floo Powder'," Armando said in a distracted manner, checking the contents of his Expanded leather coin bag, (which Amaryllis had learned was apparently called a Wizard Wallet by the creators, an adaptation of a muggle version which she didn't have the slightest idea of,) to make certain he had everything needed.

"And what is Floo Powder?" she asked, then she whistled for Zephyr.

"It is a silvery powder one tosses into a fire place, turning the flames green from the magic and rendering them harmless to us," Armando said, leading her across the manor to his fireplace. As she settled the hawk on her arm, his explanation continued. "You will step inside the fire, clearly state your destination, and it will bring you to the fireplace in mention. There is a complex Floo Network set up, and there is an arrival point stationed in Diagon Alley, along with the districts off of it- Knockturn Alley, Botanic Alley, Practic Alley, Martial Alley, Whimsic Alley, and Carkitt Market. We shall be starting our shopping in Diagon Alley for your school supplies and we'll have lunch in Carkitt Market. Depending on our time schedule, we'll visit Botanic and Whimsic Alleys for your personal supplies before or after lunch, and I need meet with Master Cogg about fixing my pocket watch. If we have the time, I need to pick up a few things for the household in Practic Alley and speak with a relative of ours who has a shop in Martial Alley."

"So the only place we will not be visiting today is Knockturn Alley?"

"Yes, and I dare say we will not have need to ever visit it," Armando said with a frown of distaste. "It's where a great deal of riffraff gather and primarily caters to things relating to the Dark Arts."

Amaryllis's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, having been given a short explanation about Dark wizards, like the one who was terrorizing the continent she was from. "If Dark wizards are supposed to be jailed, why are there stores being allowed to operate that can provide them with their supplies?"

Armando sighed and muttered, "Bureaucracy…" He saw his daughter's confusion grow more apparent and said in explanation, "While most Dark witches and wizards commit evil acts that warrant being sent to Azkaban, some are not actually practicing evil. An example would be Necromancy, the magic practices relating to the dead. Some study it to be able to communicate with ghosts and other spirits, sometimes to help them move on or at least find more peace while stuck here. Or to find out information the ghosts possess, such as the identity of their murderer if that is why they were a ghost, or some other event the ghost was a witness to. Other necromancers, the larger portion of the community, use their magic for far more evil purposes, such as creating Inferi or casting foul curses on others.

"Because Necromancy has some uses that can be considered useful, even if Dark, the study of it won't be outlawed. Shops are allowed to carry their wares and law enforcement can only arrest a Dark wizard if they step over the line of doing things distinctly evil. Also, by allowing the shops to remain open, instead of pushed into underground trading, Aurors…"

"That's the law enforcement people?" Amaryllis asked, memory uncertain on that name. "Like you were?"

"Yes, quite right," Armando said with an approving nod. "The Aurors are able to keep watch on the shops to see who is coming and going, find out what they've bought, and if a crime is committed they'll be able to trace who was likely to have been able to commit the crime to narrow down their list of suspects."

Amaryllis considered that logic for several seconds, and eventually shrugged. "I suppose that makes sense. _Salana_ says there is light and dark in everything, and they aren't the same as good and evil, and that balance must always be kept."

"Correct, though dabbling in the Dark Arts is most unwise," Armando said. "There is a difference between natural darkness and magical. We will not be going to Knockturn Alley, but the other districts should prove interesting for you, and educational."

Amaryllis nodded, feeling both curious to see what sort of places these might be, and a bit nervous to be around so many magic-f… witches and wizards. Albus and her father had said that she had learned enough that she should be fine for this short venture, and her father was going to be there with her to do much of the talking, so she tried to concentrate on remembering her lessons and stirring up the curious side of herself.

"Now, if you're insisting on bringing Zephyr with us, I will need enchant him to be still for our brief travel," Armando said. "This means of traveling is far easier on a person than Apparition, but if he flaps his wings about he could hit them on one of the fireplaces as we pass and harm himself. It will also be important for you to keep your arms close to your body to likewise avoid injury. Understood?"

Amaryllis gave a tentative nod. "I'm not going to end up vomiting again, will I?"

"I strongly doubt that," her father said with a reassuring smile. "You'll hear a loud roar of flames because of the medium we're traveling through, and smell the ashes of the fireplaces being passed. You don't feel the same sensation of personal movement, however; it is more everything moving about you at a fast pace."

Amaryllis gave another small nod. "I think Zephyr and I can tolerate that. There was a large fire on the outskirts of our forest just a few months ago because of the wizard battle that took place there. I went with _Salana_ and Chiero to help keep it from reaching the trees, and the noise was very loud."

"Your aunt allowed you near a wild fire?!" Armando asked in consternation.

"Well, not as close as she and Chiero were; and she wouldn't have allowed it, with the way my health has been, if the fire hadn't spread so quickly and she didn't so desperately need the help," Amaryllis said with a pout. "But I was helping her coax dense vines into weaving themselves into a barrier to slow down the fire's approach until the earth spirits could arrive and smother it out."

Armando stared at his daughter blankly for a few seconds, then shook his head, reminding himself that she was born of a nymph. "That was very brave of you, but please leave the handling of any potential disasters to adults while you are here. You cannot use your dryad gifts around others and you are not yet trained as a witch."

Amaryllis gave a small huff in frustration and said, "Yes, father, I remember that instruction very well, and I promised _Salana_ _mei_ that I would listen. I will refrain from using my gifts unless my life is in immediate danger and I have no other option."

Armando sighed at her tone of voice. "I am only trying to protect you, Amaryllis, not stifle you."

Amaryllis' cross expression dissipated for the most part. "I know that, father. I don't like hiding who I am, but I do understand why I have to."

Armando gave a fond pat on the top of her head. "Shall we, then?" he asked, gesturing to the fireplace.

Amaryllis nodded and said to Zephyr, " _Stay still so father can cast his spell._ "

Zephyr gave a small, disgruntled chirp but held still when the nymph held him out towards the wizard. Armando gave an elegant swish of his wand at the bird and said, " _Petrificus Totalus_ ", and Zephyr froze as he was. Amaryllis could sense the displeasure radiating off the merlin, though, and knew she owed him a great deal of head and wing scritching to make up for the things he allowed on her behalf. She snuggled the small falcon close to her chest with one arm to keep him safe during their travel.

"Remember, keep your arms in and speak clearly," Armando said, pulling an ornate silver canister from the mantle and removing the lid. "We are going to Diagon Alley, South Entrance. When you arrive, step forward and away from the fireplace so you won't be bumped into by those coming out behind you. I will be leaving just a few seconds after yourself. There are currently three arrival floos in operation at that location, directly side by side, so I may come out one of the other ones, but other patrons are likely to be likewise arriving and could trip over you."

Amaryllis nodded her understanding. Her father held the canister out to her and she saw a shimmering silver powder within.

"Just a small palm full will do it, and then say 'Diagon Alley, South Entrance'."

Amaryllis used her free hand to take the powder and turned to the lit fireplace. She tossed the powder inside and the flames jumped high as they transformed to an emerald green shade that was no longer giving off heat as it had been just a moment before. Momentarily in awe of the beautiful colors, the half-blood needed a gentle nudge from her father to remember she had a purpose for the emerald flames being created. At least that gave a few seconds for the ashes that had been kicked up by the initial increase of pressure from the magical flames to start settling down again. She took a deep breath to avoid inhaling ashes while she spoke, (one experience with that unpleasant possibility this past spring was enough to make her wary), wrapped her other arm around Zephyr to be certain she wouldn't lose him, then stepped in the flames as carefully as she could.

"Diagon Alley, South Entrance," she called out as she exhaled the breath she had held. And as Armando had also described, she suddenly found herself being transported in the roaring flames, though it seemed like everything else around her was spinning around and she was the one remaining still. She caught quick glimpses of various fireplace grates passing by, but was moving far too fast to notice more than the blurs of them. The visual input was dizzying and she looked down to concentrate on the stationary merlin to lessen the effect.

Her feet suddenly came into contact with solid ground again. Amaryllis stumbled forward unsteadily, worried she'd lose her footing and fall face-forward on Zephyr.

A strong hand gripped her elbow and steadied her, as a deep voice with a heavy accent said in amusement, "Easy there, 'lil lass. Firs' time on the Floo?"

Amaryllis allowed the person to pull her forward a few steps as she tried to recover from the abrupt entrance. "Th-thank you, sir," she said, looking up at a wizard who appeared about Albus's middle age, though much stouter and shorter and with short sandy blond hair. "And yes, my first time."

"Well, naugh' so bad then," the wizard said with a chuckle. "At leas' you didn' come out spinnin' or in a faint from the vertigo it can cause."

Amaryllis gave a shaky smile and checked to make certain Zephyr was fine. He definitely was glaring at her at this point, his displeasure had shifted into a keen aggravation.

"Ah, there you are, Amaryllis," she heard her father call from behind. "And Byron McManus, nice to see you."

"Headmaster Dippet!" the wizard said in obvious surprise. "Well, I must say, I didn' expect to see ya outside of Hogwarts, but it is nice ta see ya as well." McManus glanced between the elderly wizard and the young witch humming to her frozen falcon, and asked curiously, "Is this a great niece of some generations you're bringing for her firs' year shopping?"

Armando shook his head once as he came up next to Amaryllis, expression quite neutral as he said, "Actually, Byron, this is my daughter, Amaryllis Dippet."

McManus's eyebrow's flew up in surprise. "Daughter?" Armando gave a nod, expression still serious. "I had naugh' heard ya had a daughter," the blonde wizard said, clearly struggling to comment in a polite fashion that wasn't overly prying.

"I'd be most surprised if you had. She's been raised overseas with her mother's family and only just moved here less than a month ago for her schooling and for us to spend more time together," Armando said. He pulled out his wand and a quick flick removed the residual soot from both his and Amaryllis' robes. A wiggly swish and " _Finite Incantatum_ " being muttered unbound Zephyr.

The merlin immediately shook out his wings and gave an angry screech at the elderly wizard. Amaryllis resumed her attempts at placating the falcon, careful not to make any noises that might be considered strange. Zephyr grudgingly allowed her ministrations, though he made a few more angry exclamation at Armando before deciding he had had his say.

"Fiesty and vocal he is," McManus commented with a chuckle.

"Not unlike his mistress," Armando said with a small smirk, bringing an embarrassed blush to said half-blood's cheeks and more chuckles from the other wizard.

"Tends to be that it works out that way," McManus agreed. "Well, I should be off for my own shoppin'. Take care, Headmaster, and a belated congratulations on fatherhood. Nice meetin' ya, 'lil lass, and enjoy your time at Hogwarts."

Amaryllis said "Nice to meet you," as Armando said "Nice to see you again", causing McManus to chuckle again. He gave a wave and left at a fast pace.

"He seems very energetic," Amaryllis said, watching the wizard disappear through the crowd with a bit of a bounce in his gait.

"Byron was a bit of a jokester when he was in school and, as I hear it, has grown up to be a man who takes a great deal rather lightly," Armando said, straightening out a fold in his robe that he noticed out of place.

"He reminds me of a spring wind racing by- not strong enough to cause any damage, but strong enough to be bothersome when it flings grains of sand up into your eyes."

Armando gave a short chuckle. "That's a fairly accurate description. If my memory serves me correctly, he's one of the suppliers for the practical joke shop here in Diagon Alley. Now then, I should think that our first stop should be Ollivander's for your wand, as that could potentially take us the longest time to sort out. Once we are done, we'll work our way down that side of Diagon Alley, back up the other, and into Carkitt Market for lunch. After lunch we can go through the South-West Arch of Carkitt Market, into Botanic Alley, and work our way towards Whimsic Alley. If it's not too late, we can back track and finish our shopping in Practic Alley and Martial Alley."

Amaryllis shrugged indifferently, not knowing where anything was or exactly what her father felt she needed, and therefore couldn't give an opinion on the matter. She followed the elderly wizard into the crowd of people coming and going along the cobblestone street, the diminutive half-blood not able to see much through the sea of robes surrounding her, especially as she kept close to her father so as not to lose him in the crowd.

Zephyr gave some unhappy screeches and chirps, letting her know he didn't enjoy this situation either. Amaryllis, feeling no one would take notice, quietly chirped and clicked back that he could fly overhead as long as he didn't go far, and then lifted her arm to propel him up. The merlin gladly launched himself towards the sky and followed above them in languid circles.

As they made their way through the crowd, Amaryllis noticed her father was greeted by a great many people they passed, and curious glances were given in her direction when those witches or wizards noticed she was following him. As they almost all referred to him as "Headmaster" and seemed quite a bit younger than the elderly wizard, she could only assume these were, like McManus, former students of his.

On a few occasions Armando stopped for a slightly longer exchange with those he appeared to be more familiar with, primarily those who seemed to be older like himself. There was invariably surprised reactions, like McManus's, from those people when she was introduced as his daughter. Some were polite enough to not inquire beyond the introduction, others seemed to want more of an explanation and were given the same sort of answer McManus had been given. Occasionally it was mentioned that she was specifically from Italy, instead of just from overseas; and to these same people it was vaguely indicated that her mother was a witch and yes that lovely merlin blatantly following them was her familiar, of the last three years.

Amaryllis wasn't sure why some people were allowed more information about her, but she assumed her father had reasons for it. Just as she knew that he had reasons for misleading about her heritage, as some wizards didn't much care for half-bloods with muggles, never mind if she was found out to be a dryad. She was much safer off if people believed her mother was a foreign witch. And amidst this whirlwind of hurrying through crowds and introductions, she honestly wouldn't have been able to correctly remember the names of those she had been introduced to, as they became a blur as introductions became repetitive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

When the Dippets finally reached a small, shabby, ancient looking shop with a sign that proclaimed it to be Ollivander's, Amaryllis gave a small whistle and Zephyr returned to her. She glanced at the rundown shop as she settled the falcon on her shoulder, wondering at the building's neglected condition, then noticed the sign, whose peeling paint read: " _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._ " The dryad's brows furrowed in thought, thinking that the family name sounded familiar. Then the answer came to her, but it wasn't a name her father had said.

"Father?" Amaryllis asked hesitantly, not following the wizard towards the door.

"Yes, my dear?" Armando said, pausing in his movement to grab the doorknob.

"Is this the shop of the wandmaker, Gerbold Ollivander?"

Armando gave her a surprised look and took a step back from the door. "Gerbold? No. Well, it used to be. His grandson Garrick has owned the shop the last few decades since his father's passing, who owned it for several decades upon Gerbold's retirement. How do you know of Gerbold?"

Amaryllis let out a small breath of relief. "I don't know Gerbold. I heard of him from _Salana mei_. When it was decided that I was going to be staying with you, she told me stories of the few ma-, witches and wizards from here that she knew of so I might be less nervous. One was a Gerbold Ollivander, a wandmaker, who had come to our country in search of trees that would produce proper wands. His interactions were with my grandmother and _Salana mei_ heard of him from her. In return for his aid in magicking away some muggles getting too close to the forest, which preserved the integrity of the whole, she allowed him to select for his wandmaking a few of the ancient trees we were not using. I don't know how long ago that was, as we don't track time the same way, but if he had been alive still…"

"Ahhh," Armando said in understanding. "No, there's no concern of that. He is no longer alive to potentially notice any similarities, and his grandson does not travel much. He has people he contracts to bring him his supplies."

Amaryllis nodded. "Alright then."

Armando ushered her into the dusky-lit store. The small room was filled with floor-to-ceiling stacks of long, narrow boxes; and it had the unique scent of antiquity permeating through it- an earthy smell with hints of dust and passing fragrances and something simply indefinable that resonated nonetheless. Just as noticeable was the other intangible presence, one of great lingering magic, and it was tingling over the dryad's senses. Zephyr could sense it as well and became very silent, cocking his head this way and that in confusion.

"Well, well," a soft whispery voice came from the right side, just behind Armando and causing both of the patrons to turn to view the speaker. He was a smaller framed middle-aged wizard with a wild mane of prematurely white hair and pale, almost unnatural, silvery-grey eyes that peered at them from behind his spectacles and were only just starting to show signs of wrinkles at the corners. "Headmaster Armando Dippet, I haven't seen you in some time. Not since you needed to replace your last wand. The first time was that lovely pine with the dragon's heartstring, 11 ½ inches, a bit stiff; replacing the pine you bought from my father, kneazle whiskers, 10 ½ inches, unyielding, broken towards the end of your time with the Aurors. Then I saw you again when the second pine needed to be replaced with the Poplar, also dragon heartstring, 11 ¼ inches, slightly bendy." His misty eyes narrowed on Armando as he said sternly, voice raised to an almost normal volume, "Haven't broken this one as well, have you? I gave a bit of leeway on the last replacement because you go longer than many with a wand, but age and years of use only excuse just so much. Former Headmaster of mine or not, I won't hesitate to give more than a scolding if you've damaged another wand."

Amaryllis pursed her lips together to hold back a giggle as she listened to the shop keeper chastise her father, who had thus far been spoken to with a great deal of respect by most people they encountered, and certainly never reprimanded by any. People seemed to largely hold him in high regard that bordered on awe because of his position at the school, but this shopkeeper seemed to have no such reservations.

Armando shook his head with a carefully passive expression. "No, Garrick, I have not damaged my wand." He removed it from his sleeve and held it out to prove it was in good condition, saying as he did so, "I am here so my daughter might purchase her first wand."

Ollivander's silvery gaze went from looking over the wand, to the young witch just behind the elderly wizard. A small smirk formed as his gaze darted from her forest green robes decorated along the hems with rosy colored flowers, to the merlin perched on her shoulder and watching him in turn, back to her face and looking over her features.

"Well then, that's another matter entirely," Ollivander said more enthusiastically, though his voice had dropped back down to its previously whispery level. "As long as you don't turn out to have inherited your father's wand-breaking habits, I'd be more than happy to serve you."

"Really, Garrick, I haven't broken that many for my age."

"Perhaps not so many as some," Ollivander conceded, but his voice was a shade stern again. "I've seen some wizards break twice as many and they lived only a quarter your years and had cushy jobs. However, I know you bought a few wands from my grandfather and great-grandfather as well, and I can't see how two, perhaps three, haven't lasted you." The wandmaker had approached Amaryllis as he spoke and pulled out a measuring tape. Waving off what the other wizard tried to say, he began muttering. "Now, let's see about you, young miss… Kindly hand your familiar to your father so I may take your measurements."

The last was clearly not a request, but an order, even if politely phrased. Amaryllis hummed to the hawk and said, "Behave, Zephyr, father is going to hold you."

The merlin gave the man in question a displeased glance that meant there'd be trouble.

"Zephyr, behave. It's just for a few minutes."

Zephyr glanced at the dryad. She gave him a sober look in return. He made some unhappy near-croaking noises.

"You're being ridiculous. He only magicked you long enough so you wouldn't get hurt. You wanted to come along and we both have to get used to certain means of travel. Behave."

Zephyr sniffed at that then nodded reluctantly. Amaryllis handed him to her father, who warily accepted the merlin. They made eye contact with one another for a few seconds, then Zephyr lowered his head to the wizard in submission. Armando shifted his hold on the falcon and gentle stroked its head, and Zephyr relaxed a bit in the wizard's hold.

Ollivander had watched the exchange without comment, but, once it was clear the familiar was properly handled, he was taking measurements of Amaryllis and murmuring himself. "Yes, yes, let's see now…" He measured the length of her arm. "Alright then." He measured the length from her wrist to her elbow. "Very nice proportion." He flicked his fingers and the measuring tape stretched itself to measure her from heel to head.

If Amaryllis thought Albus could be confusing with his method of evaluation, he was downright linear compared to Ollivander. She came to this conclusion after enduring several minutes of the wandmaker's muttering and being measured from various points that she couldn't imagine having the least to do with waving a wand. How long her foot was, the distance between the inner corners of her eyes, the width of her nose, the circumference of her shin… the measurements just went on and on, as though he was going to be making her a full-body suit, not selling her a wand.

When she gave her father a confused look that bordered on pleading for intervention, Armando simply shrugged and gave her a look that said he couldn't explain the method but it was to be tolerated. Amaryllis hung her head with a sigh, only for Ollivander to ask her to lift her chin so he could measure the length of her jaw.

Finally, though, the wandmaker gave a snap of his fingers, and this time the tape measurer rolled itself up with a snap and fell to the floor.

"Now then!" Ollivander said, swiftly walking down one narrow aisle among the stacks of wands. "Let's see here… Ah, there we are." He pulled a box midway down the line from underneath another. "Chestnut and unicorn hair, 10inches, moderately bendy."

Amaryllis took the wand offered and gave it an uncertain swish in imitation of what she had seen her father do, not sure what to expect. Nothing happened and the wand was plucked from her hand almost the moment the movement was done.

"No, no, that's not it…" Ollivander murmured to himself. "Not so obvious an association then… hm.." He went to a closer stack and pulled from there. "Maybe something a bit different. Ebony and dragon heartstring, 9inches, fairly stiff." As the wandmaker held that one out to the nymph, sparks flew out, nearly setting both of their sleeves on fire. His eyebrows flew up as he exclaimed. "No! Definitely not! A bit too different I dare say."

Amaryllis cast a worried look in her father's direction as the wand maker hustled away.

Armando gave a small shake of his head. "It's alright, Amaryllis, that happens sometimes." He settled himself onto the single spindly chair and she had the feeling he was preparing for a long wait.

"Quite right, quite right," Ollivander said. "Knowing that one was so ill suited simply helps indicate what will be proper. Ebony can be overly aggressive for most people…" He glanced over the selection. "Ah, here we are. Pear and unicorn hair, 11 inches, quite swishy." That wand was barely in her hand before he snatched it back.

The same happened for "Walnut and phoenix feather, 9 ¼ inches, pliable", "English Oak and unicorn hair, 10 ¼ inches, unyielding", and "Dogwood and phoenix feather, 11 ¾ inches, swishy". He allowed her to wave the "Hawthorn and unicorn hair, 12 ½ inches, rather supple", but quickly took it back.

"Hm… Let's see," Ollivander said, glancing around the shelves. "Perhaps a less aggressive dragon heartstring combination, but more dynamic than the Pear, will get a positive reaction… Sycamore for the adventurous, maybe?" He withdrew a box and lifted the wand from it, eyeing it measuringly. "A neat 9 ¾ inches and springy to bring some balance?"

As soon as Ollivander came within a foot of the dryad, the wand combusted in his hand. "Merlin's beard!" He exclaimed, dropping it onto the ground. He whipped out his wand as Zephyr began screeching in alarm, pointing it at the flaming wand and saying, " _Aguamenti!_ " A stream of water hit the other wand and doused the flames with a crackle. The wandmaker ended the spell and looked mournfully at the burnt wand, shaking his head.

Amaryllis had again looked over to her father in concern because of this even more volatile reaction. She had a feeling that because the two wands had had dragon heartstring, which required the death of the animal for something her people would find to be unnecessary because it wasn't directly tied to survival for the one doing the killing, her dryad side was influencing the situation to keep her from using them. Armando was appearing concerned as well this time, watching Ollivander deal with the fire as he kept a hold on the falcon and tried to calm it.

"Most definitely not. I suppose I should have known better as the sycamore can combust sometimes," Ollivander was muttering, slipping his own wand back in his sleeve.

"I would not dare presume to intrude on your area of expertise, Garrick," Armando suggested carefully, "but perhaps the problem rests not in the woods, but that dragon heartstring itself is not compatible with my daughter, and we should keep our selection to the unicorn hair or phoenix feather cores."

Amaryllis held her breath as Ollivander look between herself and her sire, but was inwardly grateful Armando seemed to be thinking along the same lines as herself.

After a few seconds, Ollivander nodded agreement. "Quite possible you may be right, Headmaster. We seem to be having poor luck with them, and the other two cores make for excellent wands in their own right."

A pile of more than thirty wands later, however, had proven that matching the half-blood with an appropriate wand was no simple task. As none of them had combusted or otherwise sparked, however, Ollivander seemed not to mind that his guesses were proving wrong. In fact, he seemed to get more excited, pulling out more and more unorthodox combinations he had made, hoping perhaps they might finally be paired with an owner. But still, wand after wand, there was no match.

They seemed to make a breakthrough, however, when Ollivander selected "Rowan and phoenix feather, 8 ¾ inches, supple." He actually allowed her to swish it, then asked her to do so again, watching the wand carefully. "No, not that one- but I think Rowan may be your wood… Hm…"

Ollivander handed Amaryllis "Rowan and unicorn hair, 9inches, pliant", and she was again allowed to swish it.

"I think I felt some sort of tingle in my fingers…" Amaryllis said with uncertainty, looking down at the wand.

"Hm…" Ollivander said, plucking the wand from her hand. "Closer, we're getting closer, but that's not it".

"Rowan and phoenix feather, 10 ¼ inches, stiff", was likewise rejected, not causing Amaryllis to even suspect a reaction.

Ollivander decided their answer must lie with the unicorn hairs. He tried ones that had hairs marked as being from specific male unicorns, specific females, specific young. After a dozen piled up, he decided that unicorn must be correct, but it was the lengths or flexibility that were wrong.

Amaryllis' arm was getting stiff from the wand waving, and she initially had been becoming equally bored and frustrated with the process. Armando was attempting to remain patient; but she could tell, by the increasing frequency in which he had to stop himself from tapping his foot, that he was becoming frustrated as well. That made her feel even worse, her boredom receding and frustration becoming anxiety that perhaps they weren't going to find a wand for her to use, that it might be a sign she shouldn't be learning the ways of magic-folk, even if her sire was one.

Ollivander, however, seemed ever more determined to find the proper wand. His mutterings became more and more speculative, seeming to work through the situation like it was a puzzle that just needed to be arranged in the correct order. He handed her short wands that were very stiff, wands so long and flexible she was worried the warbling wood would hit her in the face, some that were almost as thin as a twig and others that were twice the thickness of her thumb, and everything in between. Three dozen boxes had been added to the pile around Amaryllis.

Finally, the wands seemed to be narrowing down to (from what she understood of his mutterings), those between 9 ¾ inches and 11 ¼ inches, of a "supple" to "somewhat bendy" flexibility. She had no idea how he was judging this by, as there had still been nothing to happen, but the wandmaker seemed convinced he was on the right track, just not having picked the precise wand that would fit the young "witch".

Ollivander started fetching Rowan and Unicorn hair wands from further back in the racks that fell into those parameters. Some were quite plain, with barely a handle on them. Others had ornately engraved handles of various animals. Some had the entire wand engraved with floral motifs or runes. The wands piled up showed the vast range of skill the Wand-making Master possessed. But, even still, nothing proved satisfactory.

"Well, I must say, Amaryllis, you are proving tricky…" Ollivander said contemplatively as he put a wand with vines engraved along the handle back in its box. He stared at Amaryllis without blinking, as though his silvery-grey eyes were attempting to peer into her very soul. It was extraordinarily unnerving. "But I do enjoy a challenge and my family has yet to fail in matching someone with their proper wand…" Ollivander suddenly quirked his head at her, almost like she had seen Zephyr do when something caught his attention and yet confused him. "Well now, I wonder…" The wandmaker tapped a finger to his lips. "Perhaps?"

Before Amaryllis could ask just what he was thinking now, the wandmaker turned on a heel and hustled down an aisle of wands. She lost sight of him as he moved towards the back. They could hear him muttering to himself again. "I know you're around here… Where did I place you? Rowan and Merfolk hair, Rowan and Jabberknoll feather, Rowan and Kneazle whiskers, Rowan and griffon mane-hair… No, no, no… Wait, the shelf with the series of wands? Hm… Rosewood series, the Sphynx series, Gaboon Ebony series… AH HA!"

Amaryllis gave a startled jump, as this was the first time she had had heard the quiet shopkeeper raise his voice to above a normal talking level, though it was still not quite a yell. There was the sound of boxes shifting and then Ollivander came back into view with a dusty box that looked a bit dented. He stopped a few paces away from Amaryllis and glanced between her and the box speculatively. "Just maybe, I think… Well, I don't suppose it could hurt to try…"

He opened the box and removed a wand that was once again made from rowan. The shaft of the wand was highly polished like many of the others so the natural beauty of the pale, golden-white wood could show. The handle didn't have a small hilt like a dagger, as some of them had, to aid with keeping hold of it. Nor did it have knotwork as a couple had had for better gripping. It had on the end a small blooming rosebud carved, with the leafy stem curled up the handle to create enough texture to help maintain a good grip, and then the stem faded off back into the wand. A very thin layer of silver had been added to the edges of the rosebud and followed it into the handle, likely to help protect the delicate carving from damage.

Amaryllis took the wand, not expecting anything to happen after so many disappointments. As soon as her fingers wrapped around the wand, however, a stream of aquamarine light shot out the tip of the wand, causing Ollivander to take several hasty steps back to avoid being touched. Amaryllis' eyes widened in shock and she would have dropped the wand, except that her fingers seemed fused to the wand by the heated pulse emanating from it. The light only extended about a foot from her, but it swiftly spread from a line to a sheet, went wrapping up and over her, creating a dome around her.

Ollivander watched with a definitive expression of glee. "Oh, very lovely! Very, very lovely! Why, I almost thought I'd never sell one of these! Absolutely wonderful!"

Amaryllis looked between the excited wandmaker and her father in confusion and a bit of fear, wondering just what the dome was and how she did it. Armando had the first wide smile she had seen him give, the expression seeming to momentarily take decades worth of worry and pressure from his stern face.

The magic began to retreat as quickly as it had formed, leaving a very shaken (literally shaken, as her body trembled like she had spent an hour in an icy lake,) half-blood staring at the wand in extreme bafflement. "Wh—wha—what?!" Amaryllis stuttered. She looked at her father. "D-d-did I d-do th-tha-that?"

Armando's grin didn't dissipate and he gave a nod.

"Indeed you did, or, rather, your magic did," Ollivander said with continued glee. "My, my, how very curious indeed."

"What were the specifications of this wand, Garrick?" Armando asked, a smidge curious after having seen so many others not react.

"Well, that's the curious part, Headmaster, now isn't it?" Ollivander said. "As much as I dislike having to admit it, I was not the Ollivander who created this wand. The wand is Rowan, 10 ¾ inches long, quite supple, and the core is not one of my customary three, as it was created by my grandfather, Gerbold Ollivander." Both Dippets froze at that name, but the wandmaker didn't notice in his excitement. "He traveled far and wide in search of the finest woods and to find new cores to experiment with. On a trip to Italy, he discovered there was a forest under the protection of a group of dryads that was in danger of being cut down for an expanding muggle population. He came to an agreement with the Queen of that colony, a dryad known by the title of The Silver Rose, rather than a proper name, that if he and his aides could stop the muggle expansion in a non-violent way, they could pick seven trees to harvest for their wood.

"My grandfather was successful and chose seven different species of trees to harvest. He was also a bit smitten with the nymph and asked her the favor of having seven hairs from her head, to be placed as cores for those wands he felt had the potential to be the most extraordinary of each tree. The Silver Rose apparently laughed at him, telling him that her hair held no special properties, especially not when removed from her head. Upon his insistence, however, she relented and gave him the requested hairs.

"My grandfather returned home with his rewards and over time did as he said, placing one of her hairs in wands from each of the seven trees. And for the longest time, none of those wands were paired with owners, and he began to wonder if perhaps he had been mistaken, that the nymph was correct in that her hair would not make a suitable core."

Ollivander shook a finger at no one in particular. "Until- until one day, a young witch came in, looking for her first wand. After having much difficulty in placing her with a wand, she was paired with the Chestnut and Dryad Hair wand. Daphne Bobbins, nee Smith, became quite the skilled botanist, developing several of the medicinal potions still used today, and starting Bobbins' Apothecaries with her husband. It was the only wand with nymph hair my grandfather sold, but it confirmed his theory that it could be a legitimate core.

"My father likewise found it difficult to place any of the remaining six wands, but then he sold one to a young witch as her first wand, after having exhausted many other options. Flora Pomphry, nee Allistor, found her match with the Hawthorn and Dryad Hair wand. She has grown up to be one of the finest Healers St Mungo's has seen in the last century. Towards the end of his career, my father sold another of the five remaining wands. Another young witch looking for her first wand, after having had no fortune with others my father had made, and she found her match with the Cedar and Dryad Hair wand. Lavender McAllen became quite skilled in transfiguration and combative magic and was accepted as one of the first female Aurors…"

"The Daily Prophet reported a few months ago," Armando interrupted, "that she died during a battle with Grindlewald's forces this past spring. She is scheduled to receive an Order of Merlin, first class, for her deeds."

"Quite right, and very sad circumstances for Miss McAllen," Ollivander said soberly. "But she too was quite extraordinary, having volunteered to be on the team sent to aid our European brethren. She sacrificed her own safety by taking the time to place a powerful shield around two of her injured comrades to protect them from Grindlewald's men. She was brought down in her distraction by the Killing Curse, yet the shield remained strong and protected her comrades until reinforcements could arrive to remove them from the battle.

"And Miss McAllen's story seemed to coincide with thoughts my father had and built off of for these wands. He had already theorized that perhaps with the cores being from a dryad, the wands could only be placed with females. Also, after selling the wand to Miss Allistor, he noticed the young witches had both been named for flowers. He made attempts to have young witches with floral names try the wands early into the process, but none of them found a match. He theorized that perhaps the wands would only choose those young ladies who had not been able to find a match with another wand, that attempting to sell one of the wands prematurely would not work. It was over a decade after he had come to that conclusion and allowed the wands to fade to the back of his memory that Miss McAllen walked into this store, had trouble finding a wand, and his memory was sparked once more. After that sale, and later following her early career to see what she'd make of herself, my father theorized that for a Dryad Hair wand to choose a witch, she needed to possess the strong potential to commit herself to a quality that the nymph would have approved of- a love of nature and botany, a desire to heal others, the will to be a champion for others' protection.

"I had yet, in my thirty years as the owner of this establishment, to place one of the Dryad Hair wands with a witch, nor been given cause to think perhaps I should make the attempt. I've found that the three cores I use make for supreme cores and one of them will suit most any witch or wizard quite lovely when paired with the proper wood, but there are exceptions to every rule. I've kept my forefathers wands in the back because there have been the rare occasions a witch or wizard finds their perfect match with a more common core. In those rare cases, the matches seem to perform just as well as one who includes a supreme core."

Ollivander's gaze went to the young witch in front of him, who had lowered herself to sit on the floor during his speech and was staring at the wand still clutched in her hand. Though she wasn't looking at him, he gave a pleased smile at the pale and faintly trembling girl.

"That particular wand was the final one my grandfather created for the Dryad Hair wands. He felt it would be his masterpiece for the series and fashioned it, obviously, in memory of the nymph who had allowed him the woods and hair. Rowan is considered by wandmakers of knowledge to be one of the finest woods for protective spells and defensive charms, and a Rowan wand has never once belonged to a Dark witch or wizard. Silver is a malleable metal that is also known for purity and a connection to the feminine half of the universe, to the ever-changing moon and lunar energy. Given that this Rowan wand also contains as its core one of the hairs from The Silver Rose, I think it is safe to say, young lady, that I will be hearing great things about you in the future."

"Amaryllis?" Armando asked, just now noticing her state of being when she didn't reply to the wandmaker, having being caught up in Ollivander's explanation of the history of the wands. When she didn't answer him, he asked again, tone becoming more concerned, "Amaryllis, my dear, are you alright?" The elderly wizard watched, with growing alarm, as a tear slipped down his daughter's cheek. "Are you feeling alright?" As he lifted himself from the spindly chair, joints protesting after having grown stiff from sitting so long, she finally replied.

"I-I'm quite fine, father…" The half-blood sniffed and then added, "Just, overwhelmed… It feels like… like a piece of home was given back to me."

Armando wanted to plop back into the chair with relief, but that would have been undignified, so he kept his footing and gave a sigh, expression softening. He said carefully, "Quite understandable, my dear, as you were raised in Italy, near that region."

Amaryllis sniffled again and nodded, not saying anything further.

"Ah, so that's the accent she has," Ollivander said in understanding. "I couldn't quite place the region. An exceptionally appropriate match then. Yes, indeed. How curiously these things work out!"

"Indeed," Armando agreed neutrally. He bent down and placed Zephyr on the floor. "You can go back to your mistress now." As the merlin shuffled his way back to the dryad, a bit awkward when not in flight, Armando stood again and said to Ollivander, "While she collects herself from this new bout of homesickness, we can take care of the transaction for her wand."

"Oh, of course, of course," Ollivander said, pulling his gaze from the young witch as she reached out with her free hand and started to pet the falcon. He led the way to the back of the store, saying in good humor, "I must say, Headmaster, if the wands that have been matched this year hold true to lore, I do believe Hogwarts is in for some interesting times."

"What do you mean by that?" Armando asked, indulging the wandmaker who clearly had more he wished to say. While the elderly wizard was on the fence about the whole business of wand lore and its accuracy, he couldn't deny that the Ollivanders had an uncanny knack for guessing qualities about a person based on their wands. They were certainly more accurate than most so called "Seers".

"Well, there's been some very interesting combinations being matched with this batch of first years, and I've seen some surprising ones in the last few years as well. A bit more than I usually see. Brutus Malfoy brought his boy, Abraxas, in the day after his acceptance letter arrived, and he nearly gave off a rainbow fireworks display when he matched with a wand of English Oak and Phoenix feather, 14 inches, rather whippy. Brutus was almost as pleased as his boy with that. William Weasley was also in here shortly after letters sent out, with his second son, George, and the Dogwood wand he matched with sent bright yellow zig-zags of light zipping all through the store. Looked as though Zeus himself was tossing thunderbolts around my store, I'll tell you. I'd keep an eye on that one, as it's likely to be a mischievous pairing to deal with, up there with McManus and his Dogwood…"

They reached the small counter and tarnished cash register. "6 Galleons, Headmaster, as it was one of my father's wands… Ah, thank you. And then about a month ago, a first year came in on his own. Striking dark features he had, and quite serious for his age. Very polite, though, and was full of curiosity in regards to the basics of wand lore. We had a nice conversation while we tried to get him matched, took almost as long as your girl did. He was one of the biggest surprises this summer as well. Yew and a phoenix feather donated by Albus's own bird, 13 ½ inches, unyielding. His surname was Riddle and I'd keep your eye on him. With a wand like his, he's likely to grow into being quite the spectacular duelist with an indomitable sense of purpose to his actions."

"Riddle, did you say?" Armando asked, searching his mind for that name, as it sounded familiar.

"Yes, Riddle," Ollivander said, closing the register and leaning on the counter. "I didn't catch his first name, come to think of it, but quite the bright boy. Many elders that come in demand the wand they think will be best for their children, though they couldn't tell ebony from ash, because it tends to be a popular wood in their family; or just want me to find a proper match quick as possible. He was more than happy to listen to my ramblings and asked a number of keen questions while we went through wands to find just the right fit for him. I can't recall ever seeing yew going to someone as a first wand, it tends to be best suited for someone with a great deal of experience, and my family furthermore believes that Yew wands won't choose a master who is mediocre or timid, but I eventually thought to try it and it was instantaneous success. He had green tendrils of light swirling and curling all about him, looking as though he had summoned up the forces of nature itself."

Armando nodded thoughtfully. "I do recall that just before Albus and I left to retrieve Amaryllis from her aunt's home, he made mention that he had visited with the boy to deliver his letter because he is being raised in a muggle environment. His given name was Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle. We were of the thought, with a middle name so unlike muggle names, that the boy likely has wizarding roots. That is unknown, though, as his residence is an orphanage, his mother having died giving birth to him and not leaving behind any contact information for family…"

"How tragic," Ollivander said, removing his glasses and polishing them a bit.

Armando gave a brief nod of his head and said impassively, "Albus didn't say much beyond that the boy took the news of being a wizard quite easily, and that he had left the boy with his school funds as Tom said he was quite used to caring for his own needs."

"Well, I'd say the boy wasn't just full of bravado. He seemed to be getting along quite well when he came in here. He said he knew his first stop had to be his wand and was told that my store was the finest, so he came here. When we finished up, he asked for advice on the best places to buy his school equipment as his next priority for new items, and then where to buy decent quality second-hand books and clothes. From how he conducted himself, I had figured he came from a mixed family and his magical parent was busy working, so they sent him to do his own shopping with a rough idea of how to spend the money given. Certainly wouldn't have guessed the boy to be that organized on his own! But I told him he could save himself a galleon or so by buying his telescope over at Batworthy's and it wouldn't hurt him any. The one thing old Batworthy gets picky about when he accepts inventory for that junk shop are the telescopes because he has a fondness for astronomy and will borrow from his own stock until its sold. So I suggested going there instead of Wiseacre, which would give him some more money for his school clothes. He thanked me quite politely and then scampered off to do his shopping."

"Hm… Well, we shall see how these children develop," Armando said passively. "If your estimations are close to how they usually are, I dare say you may be correct and my tenure as Headmaster will be going through another interesting period."

Ollivander gave a soft chuckle, straightened up and started walking back to the front of his store. "Yes, I think so. You may have your hands full with these kids, but they'll be promising for this generation."

"Let us hope so," Armando said as he followed the wandmaker. When they reached the front of the store, he was relieved to see that Amaryllis had picked herself up off the floor, stopped crying, and was playing with the merlin. She was ruffling the feathers on the top of his head with her wand, causing the falcon to make little playfully annoyed noises and snap at the wand, though he was clearly not making a serious effort to stop her from her teasing because he was enjoying it as well. "We're finished here, Amaryllis. Are you two ready to leave?"

Amaryllis looked up from her game with Zephyr and nodded. "Of course." She looked over to the wandmaker. "I apologize, Mr. Ollivander, for being so emotional before."

"Oh no, no, it's quite alright, young lady," Ollivander said, waving a hand. "We were having a bit of a time trying to find a wand for you and it's understandable to have a reaction when it's finally found, especially if it also has some personal significance to the match. All the better, if you'll take my opinion, as you'll form a better bond with your wand if you're attached to it."

Amaryllis gave a grateful smile, to both his words and understanding. "Well, just the same, thank you very much, Mr. Ollivander. I honestly can't tell you how much it means to me to have this wand, and I truly hope someday the other three wands find witches who will appreciate them and put them to worthy use."

"I hope so as well, young lady. You enjoy your school year and, don't take this in an ill fashion, but I hope not to see you walking in here again, unless it's to someday bring your own children in for their wands."

Amaryllis giggled at that, blush flaring on her cheeks. "If that's the case, then I'm not sure we'll meet again, so fare well to you, Mr. Ollivander."

"And to you, young lady," Ollivander said with a nod. "And to you as well, Headmaster." He gave a knowing wink as he added, "Good luck with this school year."

Armando gave a small shake of his head. "Thank you, Ollivander. Take care."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Before they made their way to Carkitt market for lunch, the Dippets had time to go to Amanuensis Quills for Amaryllis's quills, ink and parchment, Potage's for her cauldron, Wiseacre's Wizarding Supplies for her telescope, and Flourish and Blotts for her school books. They would have potentially gotten more school supplies bought in that time, but Armando had to contend with being stopped on a fairly frequent basis to say hello to people who recognized him, and the more frequent delays caused by his young half-blood daughter.

Amaryllis was slowly but steadily becoming more comfortable with her surroundings, and was now showing a magpie like tendency to dart off or suddenly stop to look in the windows of shops when something caught her eye. The elderly mage had his hands full, literally and figuratively, trying to keep up with her and answer all her questions.

When they passed Magical Menagerie, Amaryllis was both curious to discover some new breeds of magical beasts she hadn't seen before, and horrified at how small their living spaces were. Armando managed to keep her from making a fuss… Well, at least not a loud one. She seemed to be remembering the house elf incident enough that she refrained from becoming angry specifically because of the ways witches and wizards had ownership over some other beings, but she was still not happy about their small living space and felt the need to say so.

Armando had to firmly but quietly tell her that no, just because he had a large manor, that didn't mean they should buy all the animals and bring them to live with them. When he pointed out some of the breeds didn't get along so well with the others if set free, or would eat some of the others, Amaryllis suggested splitting them up into two groups that could get along with those in their groups, bringing one to his manor, and the other to his school. He informed her that he had no plans to turn his manor into an animal sanctuary and as he was only usually there for a few weeks out of the year, he wouldn't be home to take care of them, and neither would she be. The house elves had enough chores as it was, he didn't think it was fair to ask them to care for a hoard of animals, and would wager she'd agree.

As for bringing a mass of animals to Hogwarts, he may be the Headmaster and able to make certain allowances on a singular scale for an individual student, but any major changes when it was not a matter of crisis, such as introducing said masses of animals to the premises, would need approval of the Board of Governors for the school. And they were highly unlikely to give that approval, especially as it would prove disruptive for the school. Amaryllis wasn't happy about leaving the animals cooped up in the store, but couldn't argue the logic.

The Menagerie had a fresh litter of puffskeins delivered, one of the species that Amaryllis had never seen before, and Armando offered to let her adopt one of the fuzzy critters; having the private hope that it would stop the dryad from pouting in a rather heart-tugging way. Amaryllis was cheered by that compromise and ended up selecting one that was significantly smaller than the other already tiny creatures, and paler- cream colored rather than custard. She said it was the runt and would need more attention, so she would be the one to take care of it.

It was 5 sickles and 12knuts for the ball of fur, 1sickle and 4 knuts for a comprehensive book about puffskeins, and another 3sickles and 2knuts for the recommended food and treats. As Armando pulled out the 9 sickles and 18knuts, he had to resist the urge to grumble about the ever increasing inflation of prices. 6 or 7 Galleons for a wand, while extremely costly, was understandable as a wand was a witch or wizard's most important tool and not nearly so replaceable as any other item they might need. But the costs of everything else in the last 300years was unconscionable high-way robbery. When he was a child, something like a puffskein, a book, and the food would have cost the handful of knuts, no sickles needed, with the book being the most expensive item. While Armando silently grumbled to himself about the relative costs and was also thankful for modern improvements so that at least books were more affordable than before, Amaryllis spent nearly twenty minutes talking to the store keeper about the basics of what she should know to take care of the puffskein.

The Sphinx's Lair was located next to Magical Menagerie, and Amaryllis was drawn to the displays of various puzzle boxes and games in the window. Some of the puzzles were actual boxes, and others were intricately interlocking pieces of wood, metal or gemstone that formed the shapes of buildings, animals or other objects. Some were solved by mundane means, and others required answering riddles that the puzzle would ask, or performing some minor magic on a piece for it to shift it out of the way or put it back, or discovering some other trick the creators had magicked into the puzzle. If one could figure out how to take the puzzles apart properly, there was a little trinket inside to reward them. The puzzles were rated according to difficulty and fancier prizes were hidden in the harder puzzles. Armando indulged Amaryllis's curiosity about the magical puzzles by buying her one of each difficulty level, figuring it would help her practice minor magic charms and stimulate her critical thinking skills. Or, at the very least, keep her pleasantly occupied.

When they passed Feathers and Furs, Amaryllis was initially horrified by the shop selling various animal parts in neatly packaged or jarred containers, and the displays with various exotic clothing accessories made from the skins of the animals. Armando explained to her that many of the items found within were of use in potions and spells, and there was strict regulations on harvesting them so that the animal populations weren't utterly destroyed by poaching. Where possible, such as the feathers, claws and snake skins, they were those shed or otherwise naturally lost by the animals so as not to needlessly kill them. And while she may not agree with animals being killed for a part or two useful for magic when it couldn't be gathered without the animal's death, that was part of why the clothes lines existed, to put more of the animal to use for the very practical need of clothing oneself. Amaryllis was partially pacified to know that many of the items were collected humanely, but still wasn't enjoying the thought of the other items. She remained quiet about it, though, when her father detailed various healing potions that required such items, and asked her if she'd rather many people died of some malady or other, when a single animal's sacrifice could save them. That was a concept the nymph could accept for the most part.

Amaryllis's grumpy mood over Feathers and Furs was dispelled by Crystal Cavern, which was a shop that had been transfigured to resemble a cave, and held within it wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-floor displays of rocks and gemstones from all over the world. Amaryllis knew dozens of types of rocks, but the shop contained hundreds she had never seen or heard of. Armando ended up buying a few small, raw cuts of stones from a display for her to bring home with her, and a little book about different rocks and their magical purposes, including those she had selected. That could be excused as something educational, certainly.

They passed Chic Feet on their way to Flourish and Blotts, where Albus had bought Amaryllis's slipper-shoes. They stopped there and bought her a second pair, a black set that would match her school clothes. They also found a pair of boots, fashioned in an old style from soft black leather, lined with mink fur, and held in place with leather straps crisscrossing up the legs. They didn't have the same hard soles modern boots had and Armando suggested Amaryllis swallow her reservations about animal products and try them on to see how they felt, as their winters were much colder and snowier than her home's and she'd need proper footwear when winter came. Amaryllis found the boots to be a bit difficult to wear, as their soft soles were still thicker than the slippers, but easier than other boots they had tried on and the fur lining was (she grudgingly admitted) not nearly as abrasive to her skin as some of the other options.

While they had been in Flourish and Blotts, Armando indulged her in buying some extra books- two in regards to wizarding history, three extras on herbalism from wizarding perspectives, another on rocks and metals used for magic, and two on magical creatures from all over the world.

As they were walking down the street from Flourish and Blotts, the elderly wizard realized that he had been doing a very stereotypical father thing of buying extraneous items to not have an upset daughter or to spoil her a bit. The realization made him sigh, especially when he looked over the frivolous purchases, because he didn't care for the thought of being one of those parents that spoiled their children. Spoiling children did no favors for anyone involved.

Glancing over and watching Amaryllis coo over the puffskein as it woke up from the nap it had taken in her pocket, and knowing from how she behaved with her falcon that she wouldn't lose interest in the animal, Armando decided he could consider today not precisely caving in or spoiling her, but simply a single time making up for not having been able to do such things before now. It wasn't as though this would become a regular occurrence every time shopping needed to be done. The girl also needed some personal effects of her own, especially if she was to feel comfortable acclimating to the wizarding world and not constantly be as home sick as she had been the last three weeks.

Armando also remembered belatedly that first year students were only typically allowed one animal to bring to school, and he had already made the exception of allowing her merlin. After some consideration on the matter, he decided that the puffskein was an extremely small creature that was known to be the farthest thing from problematic- it seemed to exist solely to look cute. The full extent of its activities were slowly rolling about in circles, making cooing noises, eating and relieving itself. It couldn't even really move about on its own. She also would have been allowed the maximum of two animals to bring with her next year. As the daughter of the Headmaster, she'd be living at Hogwarts mostly year round, as he frequently stayed even when school wasn't in session. Allowing her this one tiny extra pet, so long as it was the last exception to the rule, wasn't a huge breech in policy and would hopefully help keep her occupied while at Hogwarts.

Putting his mind to ease with those rationalizations, Armando ran through in his mind the list of restaurants at Carkitt Market and tried to decide which was most likely to have fare that Amaryllis would be able to eat without greatly upsetting her health. They hadn't yet started trying to acclimate her to new foods and while out in public wouldn't be a good time to begin. He decided that Gandal's Garden, not far from the archway leading to Botanic Alley, would be best towards that aim. It would likely be most comfortable for Amaryllis to visit as the seating was outdoors among the flora planted, and a bit more comfortable for himself as the tables had enough tall bushes and hedges between them that a semblance of privacy was offered, giving him a reprieve from people stopping him to talk.

As hoped, Amaryllis was pleased to see an establishment in the busy wizarding community that had greenery surrounding it, even if it was only a small patch. They enjoyed a light lunch consisting of summer greens salad and grilled trout with rice pilaf. While they ate, Amaryllis was flipping through her course books and asking the occasional question when confused about something within. She was giving small bits of the spinach from her salad to the puffskein, who she hadn't named yet, and Zephyr was perched on the tallest hedge next to the table, watching patrons come and go.

Their dessert of chilled fruit salad had just been brought out to them a few minutes earlier when they could hear the clock tower tolling for one o'clock.

Armando started at the noise, putting his fork down next to the bowl. "Oh dear, is it one already?"

"Is something wrong with that?" Amaryllis asked, lifting her gaze from _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_.

"My appointment with Master Cogg was for quarter after one," Armando said. He lifted his wand and sent a small burst of white sparks in the air to signal to the waitress that she was needed. "We should be able to make it on time if we hurry."

Amaryllis blinked in surprise and then looked down at her barely touched dessert and the fresh cup of tea that had been delivered with it. "Oh… Alright." She pushed her porcelain bowl aside and leaned over to rifle through the bags from Flourish and Blotts to find one of the bookmarks they had also bought.

Armando sighed as he watched her, realizing she was disappointed and was being mature enough not to argue over it. After a few seconds thought, he came to a decision he had ambivalent feelings on, but impassively said, "Amaryllis, if you would like, you may remain here to finish your dessert and continue reading. I will only be on the other side of the market and I believe I could trust you to look after yourself in a quiet area such as this."

Her head popped back up from under the table, face showing clear surprise. "Really?"

He gave a nod. "Yes. I should only be a half hour to an hour, depending on whether or not Master Cogg can immediately fix my watch or if it'll be a more complicated fix that he will need keep it for. No one would mind you staying to finish the meal."

"What if I finish before you get back?"

"Hm…" Armando hummed as he considered that. "Let's simplify things and agree to meet at the fountain in the center of the market when the clock strikes half past two? If you finish your meal before then, you can wander around the market a bit. I could leave you a few coins in case you see something you'd like."

"You wouldn't mind?" Amaryllis asked with more enthusiasm, seeing that he was serious.

"As you've reminded me on a number of occasions in the last three weeks, you're quite used to looking after yourself," Armando said. "You also seem to be feeling well today, so if you promise me you'll stay in Carkitt Market, and attempt not to make a fuss if you go browsing and see something you don't agree with, I don't see the harm so you can finish eating and not become restless waiting inside Cogg's."

The waitress, a slender red-headed witch, came around the corner of a bush. "Sorry about the delay, Headmaster," she said pleasantly. "What can I do for you?"

"That's quite alright, Ginerva," Armando said. "Just one moment." His gaze went to his daughter. "So, would you like to come with me or stay here and finish your dessert?"

"I'd like to stay," Amaryllis said immediately.

He nodded with a small smile. "I figured as much. Ginerva, may I please have our bill?"

"Of course, Headmaster." She pulled a small pad of paper from the pocket of her waist apron and tapped it with her wand, saying "Table 11". The bill wrote itself out and she handed it to the wizard. "Here you are."

Armando accepted the bill, gave it a quick glance, then retrieved the money from his wallet. He handed them back to the waitress and said, "My daughter will be finishing up her meal without me as I have an appointment to get to, so she may need another bill if she wants an extra cup of tea."

"Of course," Ginerva said with a smile. "That won't be a problem."

"Thank you." The waitress left them and Armando reached back into his wallet, pulling out a mixed handful of knuts and sickles, and a galleon. He placed them in a small cloth coin bag he also had stored in the Wizard Wallet. He placed the bag on the table as he stood. "Remember, stay in Carkitt Market if you decide you want to roam about and meet me at the fountain in the center when the clock strikes half past two. If you're in a store when you hear the bell, please try to be quick about paying and hurry back to the fountain so I won't have to try hunting for you. If I'm not at the fountain, wait for me there as I'm likely just finishing up with Master Cogg and will be there shortly. If it seems like he'll be a bit longer to finish my watch, I'll come get you and we can return together to pick up the watch."

Amaryllis nodded with a grin, pleased her father was giving her a chance to do something on her own. "Of course. I'll see you at the fountain when the clock strikes half past two."

Armando patted the top of her head. "Please don't get too distracted with either your reading or your browsing that you don't notice the time."

She nodded again. "I'll pay attention."

"Good girl. I'll see you at two-thirty." He straightened his robes, a wave of his wand lifted up the shopping bags to bring with him so Amaryllis wouldn't be left to carry them, and then left the table before he could second guess extending this small test of trust. While it wouldn't have been considered proper back in his day to leave a young witch to roam about on her own, he reminded himself that they were not living in the era he was raised in; and they were in a quiet district of a wizarding community, which as a whole was generally quite safe in its own rights; and that even though his half-blood daughter was raised in a far more liberal way than he was used to, she was trying to adopt as best as she could to wizarding ways, and he needed to continue meeting her part way on some things so they could both be comfortable with this arrangement.

Armando continued to repeat those points in his mind as he made his way to Cogg and Bell's. The elderly wizard was not comfortable easing too far from traditional ways, but Albus had counselled on a few occasions that he needed to remember all those various points when dealing with his daughter. He figured this was a fairly good attempt to do so, in a set of reasonably controlled circumstances. He did his best to ignore the uneasy feeling in his stomach because he was leaving Amaryllis to her own devices. If he had to go hunting her down because she didn't meet him at the appointed time, he'd simply not extend the offer again because she had shown she wasn't as mature as he had given her credit for. However, even if she did get a little distracted by displays because there was a great deal of new things to see, he did know she was also used to responsibilities and hoped she'd prove him justified in letting her be on her own for just over an hour.

With yet another sigh, Armando decided that even though he had only been at less than a month, being a father was undoubtedly the hardest and most confusing job he had ever had. Even when he was an Auror, things were far less troublesome because he had fully understood the risks and implicit rules of such a position. And overseeing the care of a few hundred children every year, with staff appointed and responsible for all the mundane daily details, was certainly easier than being personally and solely responsible for all the details of a single pre-teen, especially when that pre-teen was his own flesh and blood.

Yes, fatherhood was already proving to be the most mentally and emotionally demanding job he had ever had… but, thinking about the times when his daughter was happy and smiling about something despite the circumstances that brought them together, Armando was glad he was being given the chance to take up this job.

.

.

.

Amaryllis watched her father leave the table with a sense of happiness because he was treating her less like a child than he had since her arrival. She debated with herself for a few minutes while she ate her fruit salad about whether she wanted to stay here and read, or go looking about Carkitt Market. While she was still getting used to the wizarding need of exchanging items for coins, instead of bartering with other items or services, and she didn't feel the need to own trinkets that she could have no practical use for, she had seen some book shops, a musical instrument store, and a flower shop on their way to the restaurant.

The desire to go explore, even if it meant dealing with crowds of magic-folk, was strong. She could read at her father's manor, but the shops were here. She adored music and hadn't brought any instruments besides the flute Marku had made her. Her father wasn't musically inclined and therefore he only had a grand organ (which she didn't know how to play) that had been his late wife's and he had kept in memory of her. Her father had a large library, and he assured her Hogwarts had one of the largest libraries in Britain for academic purposes; but his library would be at the manor, obviously, and apparently there was a limit on how many books could be taken out of Hogwarts library and she would need contend with others possibly "checking out" books she might have wanted to read. Amaryllis did enjoy learning new things and books were very convenient to do so from. And her father's manor didn't have many plants inside, and she was told her dorm area wouldn't come with any. If she was going to have to tolerate being inside constantly, having some plants surrounding her would help her feel less claustrophobic about it.

Amaryllis decided to take a look around the shops, buy one or two more books if something caught her eye, perhaps buy a second portable instrument if she had enough money (she was still fuzzy on the value of these coins and what value might be placed on objects by wizards and witches), and select some plants to buy that she could come back to pick up once she was with her father again and he could levitate them for her.

That decided, she finished off her dessert with enthusiasm, letting her puffskein have a blueberry. She tucked her herbal book in a pocket of her robes, (why did wizards call herbalism "herbology"?), and picked up her little puffskein, who was quite content after its meal. She quietly told Zephyr she was going into the market and he could fly above to remain out of the crowd. The merlin gave a small chirp of agreement and then launched himself off the hedge he was perched on. She passed the waitress who had been taking care of their meal and returned the fare well the perky redhead gave her.

One of the book shops was closest to the restaurant out of the stores she had noticed, so Amaryllis made her way towards there. She passed Stowe and Packer's Magical Bags, however, and thought about her father having to levitate all the bags they had bought. He had a magical wallet that held far more than it appeared capable of, perhaps some of the bags and cases she could see displayed in the store window had similar functions? If she could find one, and had enough money with her to pay for it, that would simplify the matter considerably and be much easier on her elderly father. She could also use it to bring her school supplies with her to school, as she didn't know how to levitate things yet.

Deciding this was a very good idea, Amaryllis asked Zephyr to wait outside and went up the stairs to the blue door of the luggage shop, wondering why the shop was located on the second floor when there was apparently nothing below it. Magic-folk could be so confusing sometimes. Inside, there were displays all about the small shop of many kinds of bags. There were circular revolving racks with purses dangling down, and small money pouches in a glass case next to them, all of which came in a greater variety of colors and fabrics than Amaryllis would have considered possible. There were small trunks piled in stacks, made of woods or metals, or some combination thereof with leather laid over.

Amaryllis wandered through the store, looking for something that could hold more than it appeared. She came across a trunk that appeared to be made of planks of some sort of pale wood, with the frame and hinges made of some sort of bone. Amaryllis shuddered and quickly backed away. Beyond the trunks there were some lines of suitcases and carts on wheels, and she made her way towards those. "Self-pulling", "Never-lost", and "Never-dirty" were among the many types advertised.

A door behind the counter at the back of the store opened and a witch with mousey brown hair and wearing small glasses with oval lenses stepped out.

"Oh, hello there, young lady!" the shopkeeper exclaimed, startling Amaryllis with her high voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in. Can I help you, dear?"

"Perhaps?" Amaryllis said uncertainly. "I'm here shopping with my father and I was of the thought that perhaps I should buy a bag or case of some sort to carry our purchases in, and to bring with me to school to carry my supplies as the list is rather long. He has a wallet that holds a great deal more in it than it should, and I was hoping perhaps you might have something similar, just for things other than coins."

"Oh, of course," the shop keeper said with a wide smile. "We have several things that have been Expanded that might suit your needs, dear." The witch hurried over to show off her wares, moving quite spritely despite being a bit rotund. "Now, if you're wanting something not just for general shopping, but also for bringing with you to school, you have the right idea of checking our luggage trunks, but our Expanded items are kept over here." The witch wrapped an arm around Amaryllis's and led her towards the other side of the store. "Now, where are you going to school, my dear? At our very own Hogwarts? Or are you only here for the summer and heading to Beauxbatons? I am not trying to pry too much, you understand, but we have a number of things styled for Hogwarts and its houses, and a few very nice pieces with Beauxbatons' crest on them. Or perhaps you might like something without school insignia?"

Amaryllis needed a few seconds to recover from her confusion at the onslaught of questions. "Um… I'm not certain? My father is headmaster of Hogwarts and I was sent here for my schooling and to spend more time with him, but I haven't been sorted yet to know my house."

The older witch stopped in surprise and looked down at her. "Oh, my! You're Headmaster Dippet's daughter?" Amaryllis nodded. "Well, fancy that! Coming to my store!" The witch used her free hand to pat Amaryllis's still captured arm. "It's no wonder you're looking a bit like a babe lost in the woods, first time in England and trying to make sense of how we do and say things. Oh, but don't you worry about a thing, dear, we'll get you sorted out. Just be sure to let your father know Ms. Burke gave you top-notch service! My great-great-great grandmother was the Headmistress of Hogwarts when your father was a student and he's always been so kind to this branch of the Burke family with his patronage. My belated husband and I do so appreciate everything that wonderful school and its Headmasters do for the wizarding community."

Amaryllis was led to a display in one corner that rest under a large sign bearing Hogwarts' crest.

"Now, you see here, we have an entirely new line of travelling luggage designed with students in mind, to help you young ones keep your belongings sorted, both on your journey to school and for your stay there," Ms. Burke said proudly, waving her arm at the display's five sets of bags- one was entirely black, and then there was four sets in different color schemes. "This is our newest and, in my humble opinion, greatest line to date. It's been in development for the last six years and I'm so pleased everything was sorted for this school year. The smaller bags in each set will fit in their own spots in the trunk, nice and neat for you. And don't you worry none about not knowing your house. This black set here in the middle is how all in the line start out. As soon as you're sorted, though, you just tap your wand on the main suitcase and say 'We're in Ravenclaw,' or whichever house you may be in. I don't mean to sound biased, of course, it's simply that Ravenclaw was my house. But, as I was saying, all you need do is say whichever house you've been sorted into with a tap of your wand, and the luggage will permanently shift from this plain black to one of these chic sets to reflect that house's colors. That's one of our new features we're debuting with this line! It took me awhile to get the charms properly combined and lasting, but I think that they came out quite nicely.

"Now, these sets are customizable and not all bags need be bought, we simply like to offer a variety of options for our customers. And should you later need an additional bag, you just come back and see us, and we'll match you up with what you need."

Ms. Burke pulled a slender wheeled trunk from behind the display, about two feet tall and long, and a foot wide. She laid it down on the ground and tossed open the lid, which held itself open. Layered shelves unfolded and stretched out, displaying various containers and revealing beneath an extremely large space for general storage that, when Amaryllis leaned forward to look inside, seemed ten times the size of the case itself, but when she looked at the outside of the case itself, it hadn't changed dimensions. Witches and wizards certainly created strange anomalies…

"As you're a first year and young lady, you certainly won't need worry about carrying Quidditch equipment around." Ms. Burke removed a slender box and small knapsack that had a silver broom emblazoned on each. "You'll want the bathing bag and general school supplies knapsack, of course. And what young lady can do without the Accessory Organizer and Shoe Rack? You'll want the Potions Box, Herbology Bag and Astronomy Case. It'll save you so much time if you have them on hand to keep all your bits and bobs for those classes in order, and they fit neatly inside the knapsack as well. Our Potions Box and Astronomy Case are also guaranteed to keep your vials and telescope lenses from breaking. You'll never need worry about bumping and shifting about in a sack causing cracks to such delicate equipment with these in your inventory! Now, do you enjoy reading, dear, or plan to be in the Orchestra?"

"Well, yes, I do enjoy reading," Amaryllis said. "I like playing music, but I don't know if I'll be good enough for playing in the Orchestra. I hadn't really considered it, to be honest."

"Don't you worry, dear. Professor Kettleburn is a bit eccentric, but I hear he knows his music and works with students of all capabilities. It's too bad the Choir and Orchestra weren't around when I was in school. I'm a bit of a singer myself. I'm no Warbeck, mind you, but I would have so liked to have been in a Choir. At least it's there for you young ones though, and that'll mean we'll want to include the Instrument Case for you, which will size to fit whichever you're inclined to. And the Book Box is essential for any academic. You just put your books inside and when you want to retrieve one, tell it which before opening and it'll be right on top for you. That was of my late husband's design. Reynard loved his books, he did." Ms. Burke gave a small sniff, voice having become wistful.

"If I may ask," Amaryllis ventured cautiously. "What happened to him?"

"Dragon Pox," Ms. Burke said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief pulled from her robes. "Winter before last. And he was so intent on trying to finish up one of his projects that he ignored the early warning signs." The witch gave another sniff and dabbed at her eyes and nose again. "It wasn't until I came home from a visit with my mother that I found him unconscious in his work room and had him rushed to Mungo's… But, by then, it was too late to do much. Such a terrible thing Dragon Pox is." Ms. Burke gave a delicate blow of her nose to the handkerchief and then tucked it away. "I'm sorry, dear, didn't mean to get weepy just now, but sometimes missing him suddenly pops back on me at the oddest moments."

"I understand," Amaryllis said with a sad smile. "My mother died due to complications giving birth to me, before I could even know her, but sometimes I wonder about her and get a little sad she isn't here. My aunt always reminded me that those who loved us remain in our hearts and live on through future generations, so she's always with us, even if it's in a different way. I'm sure the same is true for your husband."

"Quite right, dear," Ms. Burke said with a nod. "And I'm sorry to hear about your mother. Such a tragedy for a child to have."

Amaryllis shrugged a little with ambivalence. "I had my mother's sisters, their daughters, and extended family of a sort, so I wasn't lonely. And my father has been very kind since I've arrived here."

"Well, I'm sure he's quite happy to have you here," Ms. Burke said with a smile. "Poor old man, losing his first wife so long ago, and then your mother. I was certainly surprised to hear he had married a foreign witch and had a daughter, but it's not surprising he'd keep quiet if he had to endure losing another wife so early on and being left with a baby. I wish at times that Reynard and I had had a child or two of our own, but with him gone now, I can't imagine trying to raise a little one on my own and still managing the shop. Never mind at your father's age. Bless him."

Amaryllis couldn't recall her father telling anyone he had been married to her mother, having left details vague because of the gossip that was sure to ensue. Apparently people were filling in details on their own in accordance to what they expected from a man like her father. She gave a small nod, not sure what to say on the matter.

That seemed a good enough answer for Ms. Burke, though, as she smiled and patted the hand Amaryllis wasn't carrying her puffskein in. "It'll be good for him to have you about, I think. I remember from my years at Hogwarts that the Headmaster didn't seem to have much to do outside his duties. But bless him, at his age, I'd wager anything he certainly must be floundering in how to raise a daughter." She winked and said, "Don't you worry any, though, dear. As I said, we'll make sure you have everything a young lady needs." The shopkeeper turned back to the trunk. "Now then, that was a yes for the Book Box and Instrument Case. And I see you have the little puffskein. Do you plan to have it come to school with you?"

"Yes. Father said I could bring her and Zephyr with me."

"Zephyr?" Ms. Burke asked with curiosity.

"He's a merlin. I've had him for the last three years. Father said it'd be okay to bring him to school so we wouldn't be separated."

Ms. Burke smiled at that. "How very nice! Well, in that case, you'll certainly want to bring the Animal Case along too. It might have been a bit much for one little puffskein, but if you have a hawk as well, you'll be glad for it. It'll keep the rest of your things from smelling like animal food and prevent any leaky food bags from spilling out into your other belongings."

Amaryllis watched Ms. Burke pull out a small case from behind the display and add it to the trunk, in the spot the items with the brooms on them had been.

"Now, you're not old enough for taking Divination, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, or Art, and Alchemy isn't always offered to the older students; so you won't need these bags quite yet…" A few bags and boxes were removed. "Next year if you decide to take the Art elective, or when you reach third year and pick your required electives, make certain to come see me about proper matching bags for those courses. Last thing you'll want is paints destroying your clothing, your runes getting lost, or a crystal ball getting cracked…"

"Um, Ms. Burke…"

"Yes, dear?" Mrs. Burke said absently, shifting around the contents of the trunk to check the current line-up of products.

"Not that I don't appreciate all the thought you're giving to this, but that's a lot of bags and boxes and, while I'm not entirely familiar with the currency here, I don't think my father gave me enough to pay for so many things."

"Oh, nonsense, dear!" Ms. Burke said dismissively. "I already said my belated husband and I held Hogwarts and its headmasters in high esteem and we're going to make certain you have everything you need. This is a gift to you, as the Headmaster's daughter certainly can't be going to school without everything she needs to make certain her years are as enjoyable as possible."

"I don't want to seem ungrateful for the generosity, but it wouldn't be any trouble telling my father I came across your shop and needed him to purchase the luggage for me," Amaryllis said, not wanting to take such a gift when the witch was apparently running this shop by herself and dependent on the sales.

"I'll say it again, and then no more, that's nonsense," Ms. Burke said resolutely, though not unkindly, closing the trunk. "I'd like to do something nice for you, child, as a way of welcoming you here. It's not as though I have children to shower my newest line on and I hope it'll help you to enjoy your time here. And if one of your classmates happens to notice your fine luggage and you're passing along information of where you got it from, you'll be doing me a favor as well." The witch stood up, giving Amaryllis another wink, this one mischievously conspiratorial.

Amaryllis considered the matter, and realized that Mrs. Burke had a point. "I wouldn't mind telling my classmates about your shop and how useful the luggage is."

Ms. Burke nodded, satisfied. "See now, dear, works out well for the both of us. And you remember what I said- as you choose electives, you make certain to come see me. I'll make sure you have everything you need for those so your equipment stays in top shape. I'll be very disappointed if you don't."

Amaryllis nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Burke, for your kindness. I will gladly do so."

Ms. Burke gave her a smile and patted her shoulder. "I'll look forward to that, then. Oh, dear me, here I am going on and on, and I didn't ever get your first name."

"It's Amaryllis."

"Oh, how lovely. I do love the flowers with your name."

"I do as well. They were my mother's favorite."

"Well, if you like fresh cut flowers and ever want to purchase any, I'd suggest Floriblunder's," Ms. Burke said cheerfully. "Their blooms are absolutely lovely and I have never had an arrangement last longer from any other florist."

"Is that the flower shop on the other side of the entrance archway?"

"Yes, dear, it is."

"I noticed them on our way to lunch. I was thinking of stopping in there to see their potted plants."

"They don't have too many of those," Ms. Burke said, voice now thoughtful. "If you'd like potted plants, I'd visit _Dogweed and Deathcap_. They have a location here, as well as Hogsmeade. They're the ones you want for living specimens. They're in Botanic Alley, just through the closest archway."

"I promised my father I'd stay in the Market, so I suppose I'll have to wait on seeing them," Amaryllis said.

"Just so," Ms. Burke said. "I'm sure you've got other browsing to do, so I won't keep you any longer with my chattering…"

"Oh, I don't mind!" Amaryllis interrupted, only to be interrupted right back.

"You're kind, dear. Thank you. But I know how it is to be young. You've probably got a dozen shops you'd like to visit before the day is out."

Amaryllis shrugged indifferently. "Only the instrument shop and one or two of the bookshops. I don't really need anything and don't want to spend my father's money on things I don't need."

Ms. Burke stared at her in surprise for a moment, then laughed a little. "You are just too sweet, aren't you? Must be from being raised in Europe by female relatives. Us women do need a maternal touch when we're young, regardless of what the menfolk think, and you wouldn't have gotten that with a father who is so very busy because of his occupation. I suppose your father did you both a favor in many respects by recognizing that. Now, let me help you down the stairs with this. It's rather light, but almost half as tall as you and certainly wider. We don't need you taking a tumble."

"Thank you, Ms. Burke," Amaryllis said, following the shopkeeper through her store.

"Of course, dear, of course." When they stepped out onto the landing, Ms. Burke spotted the merlin sitting on her sign. "Oh, this must be your familiar, Zephyr! What a beautiful falcon!"

Zephyr gave a small screech and spread his wings proudly.

Amaryllis giggled. "You're such a show off."

That brought laughter from Ms. Burke. "And well within his rights. I don't think I've ever seen a merlin with feathers quite so shimmering."

Zephyr made a pleased clicking noise and fluttered his wings.

Ms. Burke led the way down the stairs, chuckling to herself. When they reached the sidewalk she handed off the suitcase to Amaryllis. "Here you are, dear. Pass along my regards to your father and enjoy your stay here."

"Thank you again, Ms. Burke, and I will," Amaryllis promised.

Ms. Burke made her way back up the stairs, passing by Zephyr as he flew from her sign. She laughed again and went back inside her shop.

Amaryllis looked around the busy market place, trying to decide whether to go to one of the bookstores or instrument shop next. She'd likely only have time to visit one before needing to meet her father. As she debated the matter, she saw a small vending cart selling various sandwiches and some sticks of roasted meat. Realizing Zephyr hadn't eaten since they left her father's manor, she called up to the merlin, "Zephyr, are you hungry for some lamb?"

Zephyr gave a few small screeches back, saying that he would like lamb.

Amaryllis made her way over to the short line in front of the cart. When it was her turn to order, she set her luggage trunk next to the cart and her puffskein on the trunk.

"Two lamb kabobs, please," Amaryllis said as she pulled the money bag her father had given her from her pocket, having figured out that was the name of the sticks from the patrons in front of her ordering.

The vender pulled the sticks off the rotating rack inside the glass case. He said with a gruff voice, "That'd be 10 Knuts, little miss."

Amaryllis nodded and dumped a small pile of the coins into her palm. She tossed the golden galleon and silver sickles back into the bag, counted out 10 of the little bronze knuts, and placed those on the stall's counter. As Amaryllis was reaching forward with one hand to accept the two meat sticks, her other hand went to put the coin bag back in her pocket… only for it to disappear from her hand with a sharp tug.

"Hey!" Amaryllis yelped, turning to see a scruffy dark haired boy darting away. "Give that back! That's mine!" The boy obviously didn't stop and Amaryllis darted after him, furious he snatched her father's money, and afraid of what said father would think if he found out she managed to get robbed her very first time allowed to roam on her own. "Give me back my money pouch!"

The boy was several inches taller than her and gangly, and he was still deftly weaving between the crowd of people to get away from the scene of his crime. Her legs weren't as long, but she had the advantage of being a nymph and was therefore a bit faster than she otherwise would have been, and she had inherited some of her mother's people's grace.

Amaryllis managed to keep the thief in sight. She was aided by Zephyr, who had streaked after the thief as well, angry his snack was being interrupted for this nonsense. The merlin was making his ire known with piercing screeches and darting at the thief from above, trying to grab the coin bag or at least scratch up the boy. Said boy had to contend with the hawk as he tried to make his escape, slowing him down a bit, and people stopping to watch the scene being made.

The thief, however, seemed determined to have his prize, and refused to release the money bag. He darted down one road, then another, the crowd becoming steadily sparser. After turning onto the second side street, which was empty of people, he pulled out his wand and started shooting spells at the hawk. Zephyr was smart enough to retreat when he saw the wand appear, and darted away from the bright beams of blue light. He let out another angry screech at the thief and started whirling and twirling between the jets of light, occasionally getting close enough to try making a grab for his new target, the wand. The thief was just barely quick enough to keep his wand out of the hawk's grasp, unfortunately, and kept shooting spells at the bird as he ran along streets he was clearly familiar with and didn't need to pay much attention to.

Amaryllis vaguely noticed that the crowd had disappeared as the streets became rougher and the buildings more run-down, but she was too fixated on getting her father's money bag back as quickly as possible and getting back to the puffskien and her trunk, to put much thought into that observation. She pulled out her wand and waved it at the boy, hoping she might make some magic happen if she concentrated on it, but nothing happened. She spared a quick glare at her wand. Of course! It did something when she first held it, when she didn't need it to do anything, but now she wanted it to do something and it just sat in her hand like a useless stick! Well, fine. She wasn't supposed to use her nymph powers in front of magic-folk, but if she waved the wand while she used them, she could hopefully make it look like wizard magic was the cause to this ignorant boy who looked about her age. She just needed the little cretin to pass by a decent sized shrub or tree, then she'd have him caught. And if he hurt Zephyr with one of his stupid little spells before she could immobilize him, he really was going to pay for this.

The thief darted to the right, down another street, still shooting spells at the hawk still trying to attack him. The boy yelled something Amaryllis couldn't quite make out, his accent very thick and his words running together in his fear. Zephyr let out a shrill warning screech and veered sharply up, and four streams of different colored light barely missed the fleet little hawk.

Amaryllis' eyes widened as she wondered what sort of spell the boy shot at her friend, as thus far he had seemed to be shooting the same spell over and over. A few seconds before she reached the intersection, Zephyr was screeching at her as he wheeled around, telling her there were more wizards in what was an alley, not a street.

She had too much forward momentum at this point to stop and turn around so suddenly, not without skidding and possibly losing her footing with as many bits of trash covered this street, so she picked up speed as fast as she could, hoping she could dart past the mouth of the alley without getting hit by the waiting wizards. Spells flew at her as she crossed the alley, she could see four boys when she risked a glance in that direction, and one of the spells managed to come in contact with a lock of her long hair, severing it where it touched.

Amaryllis let out a gasp of alarm, realizing that the new boys were casting spells that wouldn't just disable her or Zephyr, they'd do actual damage.

The half-blood also realized she may have made a mistake chasing after the thief, as she was now outmatched and they had the ability to use dangerous spells she couldn't even recognize, never mind return. She continued dashing as fast as she could away from the alley, not caring anymore about her coin pouch. She could hear the wizards behind her, they were giving chase. She zig-zagged down the street, trying to avoid their spells. Zephyr had darted back at them, the brave little merlin doing what he could to distract the boys and throw off their aim.

Amaryllis turned down the bend in the street to give herself a few seconds reprieve from spells hurling at her, gaze darting everywhere for some sort of hiding place. The buildings here had mostly darkened windows, peeled paint and weathered wooden doors.

One building looked to be a shop, the sign saying "Shyverwretch's Venoms and Poisons". That didn't sound too welcoming, but there was a light in the window and if she could get away from the boys chasing her, who sounded to be coming around the corner, she'd take what she could find. When she reached the door and tried turning the doorknob, however, she found the door locked.

A spell of some sort collided with the door in a crackling shower of red sparks, just inches from her head, causing Amaryllis to let out a startled screech and shove off from the door. She heard one of the boys laughing, and then his laugh turned to a yell of pain. His friends continued to shout spells, but they had stopped being flung her way for the moment. Amaryllis looked back to see what happened, and saw a boy had his hands to his face, blood pouring between his fingers. Zephyr must have clawed him in the face in an attempt to go for his eyes. The other three boys were shooting spells at the hawk and he was frantically trying to avoid the onslaught.

There was another store just across an intersection, "Ariadne's Spinners", and Amaryllis darted for that store, but was brought to a screeching, stumbling halt as a spell streaked in front of her. The boys noticed her attempting to escape, leaving off their attack on the bird. She changed direction, heading down the street between the two shops, only to find that it wasn't a street. She was in a dead-end alley.

She whirled around and waved her wand, concentrating on the shield sort of thing that had appeared before, but again, nothing appeared. She cursed in her native language, that of the wilds. " _Son of a manticore! So much for the spirit of my mother's mother being with me in this wretched country!_ "

" _A mistress?_ " Amaryllis heard the hissing question come from her left and turned to look. There was a small viper a few feet away, perhaps two feet long, staring up at her from its hiding place among some pieces of trash.

" _Please, help me,_ " Amaryllis hissed back as the wizards came around the corner, not caring how or why the viper came to be in the alley. She ducked a bright blue light shot her way. " _Get the wizards! Please! I think they want to kill me!_ "

The viper hissed angrily and looked in the direction of the wizards, one of whom just got his wand hand clawed by the furious hawk, and began a speedy slither in their direction, keeping in the shadows next to the wall to be less noticeable.

"Nowhere to go now, you little foreign bitch," said the tallest of the boys, who had greasy black hair and cruel grey eyes. One of the others shot spells at Zephyr to keep the hawk occupied. "You and your damn bird have run out of places to hide and you're going to pay for Fenrir and Jerome getting bloodied up."

Amaryllis had to throw herself to the ground to avoid the streak of red light he aimed in her direction.

"If you _Ladri_ hadn't stolen my money, they wouldn't have gotten scratched up!" the half-blood yelled back in an indignant fury, then had to roll as a yellow light came flying at her.

She was grateful to see the viper had nearly reached the boys. If she could just avoid their spells long enough for the snake to help Zephyr deal with them, she should be okay…

But then Zephyr let out a pained screech, blood falling from his leg where a yellow spell had slid across and cut him open.

" _Cretini!_ I swear I'll feed you _Shnga_ to the rats for that!" Amaryllis screamed, pushing herself up from where she lay. She'd attack them with her bare fists if she had to, barbaric as it was, but she wasn't going to let them get away with hurting her friend.

Before she could get to her feet and make a run at them, though, a red light hit her directly in the chest, sending her flying backwards towards the brick wall at the end of the alley as pain erupted through her torso. A strangled scream exited her throat as she hurtled towards the wall with no way to stop herself, and at the same moment she heard one of the boys screaming that a snake had bit him. She didn't hear over the noise who sent the spell her way, but she saw the two bright bursts of yellow light, not dissimilar from the one that cut open Zephyr, hurtling at her from one side.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Tom Marvolo Riddle weaved his way through the crowd roaming Practic Alley, away from Second-Hand Robes where he had just purchased the majority of his school robes.

He had been going about a certain routine Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, since the first week when he made his initial trip to Diagon Alley and bought his wand, one set of new robes (which he currently wore), and school books. After breakfast, he'd tell the Matron of the wretched orphanage that he needed to do some more of his school shopping and received her all too happy permission to leave for the day. He made his way to the Leaky Cauldron, said a polite few words to the barman before changing in the bathroom, then made his way out back to the entrance of Diagon Alley.

There he would pick up a couple items he needed from his school list. Enough that it seemed like he had bought all he could carry, but not so much to actually give him any trouble. He wanted to stretch out his shopping excursions as long as possible, so he needed to continue coming back with bags to show the Matron as proof he wasn't just wandering the streets all day. She never checked the contents, just waved him along when she saw him arrive with bags in hand. She detested him, was nervous around him, and would be glad to see him leave in September, so she was glad to let him run whatever errands he needed to so he could be ready to go to the 'academy' the strange red-haired professor had told her about. Heaven forbid he was unprepared and they decided to send him back to the orphanage, for him to be her problem again. No, as long as he made it look good, she let him out to do his shopping.

So once he picked up his remaining robes as proof he had gone shopping, having thoroughly charmed the shopkeeper there and eliciting a great deal of useful bits of information out of him, he did a few hours of leisurely wandering, listening to all the witches and wizards around him. He was learning how they talked, what current events were in the wizarding world, gossip that was flying about this family or that business.

The world of wizards was still new to Tom, but he wanted to learn everything he could in the course of this summer so that by the time he reached Hogwarts, he'd know it almost as well as any student who came from a wizarding family. He did not want to be marked as an ignorant outsider. He knew the wizarding world was his heritage, even if it had been denied to him this long because his muggle mother had been stupid and weak and died before she could reveal more information about who his wizard father was. He wasn't going to lose this chance to reintegrate into the world that he was born for because he made the wrong impression.

So for nearly four weeks he had spent three days a week wandering Diagon Alley and its side streets. He listened to everything he could among those shopping, picked up what information he could from the shopkeepers.

That was how he heard about there being rules against underage magic, something Dumbledore had conveniently not mentioned to him. Maybe to get him in trouble and kicked out of school before he could even begin because he had accidently said a bit too much to the purple-clad wizard in his excitement to find out about magic and had clearly made the wizard wary of him. But one of the clerks at Scribbulus Writing Implements, a witch in her later 60s who thought the polite first year was 'just so precious', had fortunately informed him that while he could study from his books and take notes ahead of time, actually practicing spell casting outside of Hogwarts was not allowed. She would hate to see such a 'nice young man' get himself in trouble because he hadn't heard of that law.

When he had inquired on the matter, she informed him that until wizards and witches turned 17, the Ministry of Magic kept track of their magic usage. Well, at least, whether magic was used or not in their homes. In magical homes, they couldn't tell who cast the magic unless they checked individual wands, so they generally trusted parents to make certain their children obeyed the law, otherwise Aurors would be constantly sent out to the homes and never have a moment to go to their own. For those children not raised in magical homes, however, it would be obvious that the magic being cast could only come from one source, so they would follow up on it if their wards picked up on magic.

As a muggle-born, she always thought when she was in school that the laws were a little unfair - she knew some of her friends from pure-blood or half-blood families cast magic when their parents were home and could get away with it because their parents didn't care about them using _Scourgify_ to clean their rooms, nor care if they were _Accio_ -ing a jar of herbs from a high shelf - but that's just how it works.

That was just one of many useful things Tom had learned, and certainly one of the most important. He wanted to make certain he was just as good at everything as a pure-blood wizard who grew up with magical parents, which meant he needed practice, and getting caught practicing would have ruined everything. Which meant he needed to find someplace to practice that wouldn't get Aurors sent to stop him. Someplace with enough magic about it that little spells being practiced wouldn't get noticed.

Which is the second reason he came to Diagon Alley for these 'shopping trips'.

Tom had learned the layout of the wizarding community's streets and shops as well as he knew the back of his hand. He had found himself in Knockturn Alley by the middle of his first Wednesday trip, going along side streets where few people ever bothered to go. It was there he came across an alley between a shop selling spiders and another selling poisons. He wasn't allowed into the latter shop, much to his disappointment, due to his age and the fact that the owner only accepted pre-scheduled clients who were of legal age.

However, that little alley was home to a pair of eyelash vipers that had escaped the poison shop, whose owner had been keeping them illegally to breed and harvest them for their venom. They had evaded the shopkeeper's attempts to find them and he obviously couldn't contact the authorities to ask for aid in rounding up the dangerous snakes unless he wished to report his own illegal activities, so he had had to cut his losses when it appeared they had slithered off somewhere far from him. They had found a small crack in the building, in a corner where the wall of the building met the road, and had just enough space to slither in. They had made a nest for themselves in the walls, only coming out to hunt down the mice and rats that were attracted to the refuse in the neighborhood.

As he was leaving Ariadne's after briefly browsing it and speaking with the slightly more sociable owner there, Tom had heard the hissing language only he seemed to be able to understand and speak. It was the male snake hissing to itself in satisfaction after a successful hunt, on his way back to his nest and the eggs his mate was currently protecting. Tom bade the viper to follow him into the alley to talk, heard the story of its escape, and then convinced the snake to give him a tour of the neighborhood, to show him where magic was used and a little more might not be noticed.

Tom took note of the places the snake suggested, and searched out others on his own, but ultimately decided that he rather liked the alley between the poison and spider shops as a place to practice.

The owner of the poison shop, as Tom had found out from local gossip, was a drug addict and liked to indulge as often as he could. His shop was kept locked up unless he had a scheduled appointment, which he would Floo to from his home, then go straight back to continue his indulgences. He had all sorts of magical wards around his shop, and inside, to try keeping any other illegal animals from escaping, and to keep out unwanted visitors (unscheduled potential patrons and annoying ministry officials alike.) His store had a decent amount of magic constantly surrounding it, and the vipers could slither along the walls and then return to let Tom know if the owner was in or not that day.

The owner of Ariadne's, a witch in her early 20s who inherited the store from her grandmother, was fond of listening to depressing opera music played by a magically amplified, hand-crank record-player. To avoid noise complaints such as she had first had when she took over the shop, she had installed a number of sound-dampening charms in the store. You could barely hear her music if you were at the door, but as soon as that door opened, morose strains of soprano singing would fill the street. Thankfully for the spiders, she had sound-proofed their cages as well, so they weren't assaulted by the music from sunup to sundown. All of that meant a decent amount of ambient magic was coming from her shop on the other side of the alley, and she wasn't going to hear him when he practiced.

Few people seemed interested in the spiders, and the snakes told Tom that the poison shop almost always did business after dusk, so that meant he had the alley to himself to practice, with very little chance to get caught. He had one of the sleek vipers keep watch down by the entrance of the alley- in case someone happened to be heading towards the shops, he'd have forewarning and stop practicing. On the one occasion a wizened, grumbling witch had been passing by the shops, she hadn't even noticed Tom perched up on the fire escape on the second story of the building. And in return for all their assistance, Tom caught a pair of mice on his way to the alley every Monday, and after his practices on Fridays, and brought them back to the snakes so they wouldn't have to leave their eggs to hunt and risk getting caught by other wizards who wouldn't take kindly to their presence.

So Tom browsed around the wizarding community for a few hours each trip, listening in on their conversations, occasionally getting to pick up a discarded copy of the Daily Prophet for a more in depth look into the wizarding world, and then he'd retreat to his practice spot after lunch time, when the crowds started to recede as the heat of the summer day reached its peak. At nights and on his days off from Diagon Alley, he spent his time in his room at the Orphanage, studying the spell books he picked up his first trip. He memorized a few chapters at a time, and when he got to his practice spot, he went about trying to produce the most recent magic he had studied.

He still had a lot to learn, but he was a quick study. He had already learned several charms from _A Standard Book of Spells_ , a few more charms from _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ , and a number of useful jinxes and hexes from _Dark Forces:A Guide to Self Protection_. He was also studying his Potions and Herbology books, hoping to find a stray spell he might try, or to be aware of some ingredient that didn't come stock in his beginner's potion kit but might be useful to buy before the school year started, but he couldn't do much practical application for those subjects yet. He did, however, find a useful charm in his Herbology book, the Severing Charm, used to deal with some aggressive breeds of plants. He'd be reading through his Astronomy and History books once he finished up with the others; he could tell at a quick glance that they'd be dry reading and not have anything useful for these practice sessions.

After a few hours of practice, he'd leave for the orphanage to have his share of the rationed dinner. He'd read until the clock rang 10, needing wand light after dusk because the matron shut off the electricity at sundown to save money. Lighting up his wand required a tiny amount of magic, and he had learned it was one of the few charms that were so minor that it wouldn't register to the wards that would report him for underage magic. At 10, he'd go to sleep, and be woken up at 5 am for breakfast, and his routine repeated itself.

Today was his fourth Friday morning wandering Diagon Alley. It was getting close to lunch time, being nearly half past eleven. He stopped by the meat cart in Carkitt Alley, the vendor just finishing his set up to accommodate hungry shoppers. The meat cart was one of the cheapest places to get a bite to eat and, of the cheap places to eat it was the most palatable. Tom got very little meat at the orphanage thanks to the muggle conflicts that were increasing and causing rumors of a potential second Great War eventually breaking out, combined with economic depression, causing food shortages. Country wide rationing hadn't been instituted again, at least not yet. The orphanage had barely adequate meals at even the best of times due to the way it was funded, however, causing them to live on a meal plan much like war-time rationing, so he appreciated the place to supplement the meager diet.

He had already priced out his school supplies and, thanks to the money-saving advice of Ollivander, had come to the conclusion he could afford one of the mutton sandwiches for lunch each of his trips for about six weeks. He had about two more weeks left of that initial six, which would bring him to the first week of August. At that point, he'd have run out of school supplies to excuse his trips anyway, so he'd spend his last three weeks before the start of school studying everything he couldn't practice. If he was diligent, he estimated he could read through all his books before school even started and have a decent grasp of their main contents, even if he'd need further time studying during school to remember all the small details.

"Hello, Tom," the vender, Jacob, said, his gruff voice somewhat pleasant towards the much younger wizard. "Your usual?"

"Yes, please," Tom said, making sure to be ever so polite. "Thank you, Mr. Fowl."

Jacob pulled some fresh shaved mutton from a metal container that was kept warm by a bluebell flame inside, piling it onto half a roll. Slices of cheese and some roasted onions and peppers were piled on, the other half of the roll topped it and the sandwich was cut in half, and then the sandwich was wrapped in a piece of waxed paper.

Tom had noticed that after his first week of trips to the cart, the vender had started to add a bit more meat and veggies than he had before. He had to admit, albeit ruefully, that he was on the skinny side, a fact even his robes couldn't hide as it showed in his face; so he wasn't going to complain about the kindness of adding extra to the sandwich, but he hated that it was obvious he was a little underfed right now. The sandwiches, while made of a cheaper meat, were large enough that half was sufficient for his lunch, and the other half he saved for the following day to eat in addition to the slop that the orphanage would serve for lunch. Thanks to the vender's generous portions, the sandwiches were helping him fill out a little- he had put on almost five pounds in the last month. Three more weeks would help him gain a couple extra pounds, then he'd just have to hope he wouldn't lose it all between then and when school started.

"Here we are," Jacob said as he handed the sandwich to the boy and accepted the six knuts in return. "Enjoy your day, lad."

"Thank you, Mr. Fowl, you as well," Tom said, making sure to do so with a charming, grateful smile.

Jacob nodded to him and Tom left the vender to his next customer. Tom made his way to the benches surrounding the mermaid fountain in the center of the Carkitt Market, finding a spot to sit just off to the right of the fiercely scowling mermaid.

That was something that had momentarily surprised Tom when he had first seen it- the fountain's depiction of a mermaid. He hadn't even recognized what it was for the first ten seconds or so that he had stared at it. Muggle stories were mostly about how mermaids were beautiful creatures who sang songs and bewitched men into the sea, much like a siren. Real mermaids apparently couldn't care less about humans, muggles or wizards, were decidedly fishy and unappealing to look upon, and became downright hostile if you encroached on their territory without permission. All of which was good to know, and showed how little muggles actually knew about the world.

Tom learned new things every day in his wanderings around Diagon Alley, and he was glad for every bit of it. He was going to learn everything he could about the magical world, uncover every one of its secrets. He was going to master all the disciplines and then… then nothing could ever stand in his way of greatness. No more marginal living off charity, no more scraping by with nothing to call his own, no more tasteless meals of unidentifiable origins. No more rickety little rooms with rickety little furniture. It was clear that, despite some obvious social realities, the wizarding world embraced its own and rewarded at least a comfortable living to those with even average talent and some idea to put that passable talent towards. He knew he had far more than just average talent and when he came into his own, he was going to take this world by storm somehow, be lauded for his greatness, and never again have to think about the rat hole his mother left him to rot in.

Thoughts of his future success carried Tom through the first part of his lunch, only interrupted by snippets of conversation that caught his attention.

"Did you read this morning's Prophet?" A middle aged and portly housewitch was gossiping to a blonde friend as they ate their lunch at the table behind Tom. Two small children- a dark haired boy of two or three years resembling the first witch, and a blonde witch of maybe two years- were being wrangled into eating their lunches as their mothers talked.

"Of course. Why?" the younger, slender blonde asked, magicking a bit of mush from some strands of her daughter's hair.

"The Ministry announced they may be allowing an expansion here, if they have enough interest from potential merchants."

"Yes! I did read about that. They're tentatively calling it 'Idyllic Alley' and said it'd run from about the middle of Whimsic, down towards Botanic. I'm hoping some of the merchants who usually sell from their homes decide it's time to expand and put in applications. It would be so nice to have a new shopping district."

"It would, indeed," the brunette said, giving a small sniff. "Especially with all these _new_ witches and wizards being brought in. Never mind the refugees from Europe. Things are getting so crowded here that there's barely any room to do one's shopping."

Tom could hear the disdain in that witch's voice and understood "new" or "new-blood" to be a polite way of referencing muggle-borns. She was obviously one of the pure-bloods, from an ancient wizarding house, that called muggle-borns 'mudbloods' when not in public, but such was not politically wise outside of her home. Despite that fact, the young wizard had picked up in the last four weeks that there was a thinly veiled hostility from those of old families towards those who had no apparent wizarding roots. Those of the former group felt those of the latter group were invading their sacred world, threatening its stability. It was part of the reason he was determined to learn everything he could, so no one would have reason to question his background too deeply, as he did not yet know who his wizard father was. Being a half-blood was acceptable to most pure-bloods; just barely, but it was tolerable to all but the extremists. It seemed the condemnation fell hardest on the pure-blood witch or wizard who made the choice to have children with a muggle or muggle-born, but the half-blood children were given a chance to show their wizarding worth and could be accepted in most circles if they renounced their muggle roots. Being suspected as a muggle-born, however, was a social death sentence with the pure-blood elitists.

"I know! I had to wait almost twenty minutes in line at Concordia's to purchase Warbeck's new record. Do you know how frustrating it is to have _them_ looking at me like I'm some miscreant because little Araminta was restless and wanting to leave? Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous."

Tom turned his mental attention from the two witches as they began discussing the new record bought. That a potential expansion to Diagon Alley was proposed, however, was an intriguing bit of news. It would likely take a year or two to make a final decision on the matter, and a few years to make the expansion and build the shop fronts. The additional merchants would cause shifts in the natures of the shopping districts if some of the old merchants moved their shops to newer buildings as an upgrade, and then other merchants shifted to the abandoned stores, though how exactly would remain to be seen if this expansion happened. And then, of course, there was the fact that new shops opening would create a competition for goods potentially, and perhaps make some things cheaper in the near future.

Tom was able to reason out that much from what basics of economy he had learned in muggle school. He considered that all these changes could be happening as he was getting in his later school years. When he graduated, he might have more opportunities for employment, or may even have enough magic in his repertoire to open his own shop, until such time as he gained power and influence to do something else with his life, maybe working in the Ministry or abroad. He wasn't sure yet what precisely he wanted to do, but he knew that eventually the pieces would slip into place in his mind and he'd do something great with himself.

"…A daughter? You're pulling my leg," an early middle-aged, black-haired wizard was saying to his companion as they sat at the other end of the table Tom sat at. The wizard was on Tom's side, the witch opposite. "How daft do you think I am?"

"I swear on Merlin's beard," the witch said with a Cheshire cat grin, flicking a lock of salt and pepper hair from her eyes with her long nails. "I met her myself just half an hour ago when I stopped him to talk about the store donating some out-modelled lab equipment not selling to their Potions class. She's a pretty little thing with long hair as black as a raven, skin like moonflowers, eyes like amethysts, and lips as red as her name flower. Apparently her mother is an Italian witch he met while abroad, and she's been raised with her mother's family 'til now. Sounds as though her mother must have died while she was a babe, so he was naturally rather reticent to speak about her much. Armando retrieved the girl at the beginning of summer to spend more time together and they're shopping about to get her ready for Hogwarts."

"How in the world did that old goat manage to have a daughter at his age?" the wizard asked in shock.

Tom could see the witch give an exaggerated shrug from the corner of his eye, though he kept a careful mask of paying attention to his sandwich that he was still taking small bites from. He knew from long experience that adults highly underestimated the interest children could have in their conversations, especially unknown children of unknown interests. As long as he seemed an oblivious child eating their lunch, they'd chatter on like he was nothing more significant than a pigeon pecking at crumbs.

"Who knows?" the witch said. "There's certainly enough potions and spells to help maintain virility. But whichever he used, he got himself a pure daughter out of it to carry on the family line. I'm sure that's going to give his however-many-great nieces and nephews no end of bemoaning, sure as they were that they'd finally inherit when the old man passed."

The wizard snickered and shook his head. "Even if there was the potential to inherit all the gold in Gringott's, I'm sure she's going to be wishing she stayed in Italy. Dippet was always a stickler for rules and I've heard that while he runs Hogwarts efficiently, he's not exactly the most nurturing gent and doesn't get personally involved with the students."

"I don't know about that," the witch said knowingly. "He seemed rather protective of his daughter and she seemed happy enough. Had a little puffskein he had just bought her, dressed in silk robes from Twilfitt's and slippers from Chic Feet, and he had in arm not just school supplies, but bags with new books and toys and other presents for the girl as a belated birthday celebration. Armando might not get himself attached to other people's children because they're full of trouble, but he seemed to be giving her the full princess treatment now that she's in his care. He's even let her bring her familiar with her from Italy, a silver-back merlin, and apparently it'll be going to Hogwarts with her in place of an owl."

The wizard gave a humph. "Hm… Well, I suppose that makes sense. He's spent what, 250, 300 years not having a few rugrats of his own? And daughters are always the apple of any father's eye. At least her mother was a witch, even if Italian, and he's not wasting his family's vault on mu-…" The witch gave a brief, sharp cough, clearly reminding him of their public location. "…multiple children. One is certainly enough for a man his age," the wizard finished carefully, then took a sip of his coffee.

"Quite. Hopefully he has some sense and won't spoil her overly much, though, and come off as being gauche. Otherwise, she's going to find herself being torn to shreds by the children from other old houses. We're not nearly as flamboyant as they are in Europe."

"Eh, Dippet knows those waters well enough," the wizard said dismissively. "When you're born to a noble house, you instinctively know how to display your wealth without going so far overboard that you harm yourself. That's why our houses have survived all these centuries while others crumble to ruin because they let new blood in that wasted it all away in sad shows trying to prove their worth. Letting the girl keep a familiar she was already attached to, especially as she wasn't born and raised here, is nothing. It's not as though he's bought her a unicorn to ride to classes on and a diamond-encrusted gold wand holder to flash around in class."

The witch laughed at that. "Could you imagine it though? Oh, that's a hideous thought. Perhaps someone should let the idea slip at a holiday party as something they were considering, and see how many of the new-bloods think it a wonderful suggestion…" They both laughed at that. "…And it'll be amusing to see how the Headmaster handles the avalanche of proposals she's sure to receive as she comes of age. He might be as old as dirt, but he was a fine Auror in his day and I feel sorry for any boy who might want to court her."

"You aren't kidding. I remember when Blishwick and I were first going through Auror training, Dippet was just getting ready to retire to Hogwarts. Blishwick had the bollocks to ask the old man if he thought he'd be able to handle such spritely opponents prancing about en masse. Before Blishwick could even blink, Dippet had him body bound and his lower lip had extended up over his eyes, looking like he was about to swallow his own head. What age may have lessened in him in regards to physical prowess, it's replaced with a surplus of knowledge and inventiveness."

The witch's laughter was nearly a cackle now. "I don't think you ever told me that story."

"Yes, well, Blishwick does hate hearing it and I don't fancy him conveniently mistranslating some set of runes and having a curse blow up in my face when I go to disenchant it."

"Fair enough…" the witch said. "Do you think there'll be an explosion in Hogwarts for you to sort out if he catches her in a broom closet?"

"Oh, undoubtedly," the wizard said, snickering yet again. "The Dippets have always been adamant on propriety being upheld. If she ages into even a moderately attractive adult, I'm sure there's going to be all sorts of interesting happenings as the old man finds himself dealing with 20th century suitors and rebellious modern daughters."

"She was quite pretty for a girl her age," the witch confirmed. "A bit shy, but that seemed more due to being in new surroundings. I'd give her a year or two and she'll be as comfortable as any who was raised here and twice as pretty as she is now. It shows in her features."

"And then lads will come sniffing about, regardless of who her daddy is, because hormones overran their self-preservation instincts," the wizard said assuredly. "And when that happens, I'll tell you this- I'll find some way to be unavailable to be sent out."

"Is that so?" the witch asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You bloody well better believe it," the wizard said matter-of-fact. "It's been a few decades since I saw Dippet teach Blishwick a lesson, but I doubt he's slowed down that much if he's still lively enough to go siring a daughter in the last decade. One of the other teams will have to sort that mess out 'cause I'm not going to be the one telling old Dippet that it's no longer legal to go cursing suitors getting too fresh with his girl and find myself on the receiving end of his wand. Especially as I'd feel a hypocrite for doing so. I would have been praying to Merlin for help if I had ever had a daughter. Or else I'd have been looking into chastity charms to put on her to ensure no boys went treading where they don't belong before marriage because I know how I was as a teenaged lad."

The gossiping duo were still laughing over that when three more wizards and a witch joined them. After telling their companions about this latest gossip, which basically reiterated what had just been said, their conversation turned to the latest models of potion distillers, which Tom listened to with a minor interest.

Tom did, however, spend a few minutes mulling over this latest gossip. Even if he hadn't been paying entire attention to the conversation, nor spent nearly a month listening in on conversations around Diagon Alley, he certainly knew that the name at the top of his Hogwarts acceptance letter was Headmaster Armando Dippet. He hadn't heard that Headmaster Dippet was a former Auror. In fact, he really hadn't heard too much about his headmaster. Dippet wasn't someone others were frequently gossiping about, though he had heard various things about some of his future professors. And that gossip was certainly going to be useful in making the right first impression; whether it was knowing to stay away from certain subjects the professor had negative opinions on, displaying certain qualities the professor was known to have and favor in their students, or scandalous bits of their history that would likewise be best to avoid touching on, unless someday down the road there was a situation in which he may be able to reference it in such a way that could play on their sympathies to his benefit.

Tom knew that becoming an Auror required extremely high marks on the later examinations in the seventh year, the N.E.W.T.S.; which one was only allowed to take if they had high marks on their O.W.L.S. in fifth year; and a great deal of grueling training after graduation. He didn't know what that training entailed, but it was obvious that those who went through it were held in regard because they had the skills to successfully complete it. Apparently the Headmaster of his new school was quite the skilled wizard and, deduced from the gossip, from a pureblood family. One that was apparently quite rigid in their behavioral conduct, and now they had a new member of the family coming from abroad. A witch who was going to be starting school at the same time he was.

Tom realized that he might be able to use that to his advantage. If there was one thing he had realized about the wizarding world, connections were almost as important as talent. There was a distinct line drawn between the purebloods of old families that held various positions of power and everyone else who wanted to be on their level. He could, and would, make a name for himself by his own talents. However, he was smart enough to know that because he didn't know who his wizard father had been, didn't have the benefit of generations of connections made and reinforced at his disposal, that he was at a disadvantage no matter how talented he was. He was going to have to work harder than any other pureblood raised among their pureblood families to gain anything close to the same recognition.

The way to prestige and fortune would be made far easier if he had connections with those with sway over the wizarding world who recognized his talent from the beginning.

Charming his professors was going to be one of the steps to hopefully gaining that recognition.

Making the right sorts of friends was another of those steps.

Friendships made at Hogwarts seemed to last a long time after graduation. And wizarding parents were extremely attached to their children's best interests and seemed to adopt one another's children as nearly their own when said children were close friends. Tom couldn't count the number of times in the last four weeks he had seen one wizard or witch doing a favor for another because they went to school together, or were the child or grandchild of an old friend. There was always gossip that this person might have pulled strings with this official to get this second person a new job/raise/approval for a special project; or that this half-blood or muggle-born felt like they may have been passed over or outright rejected for something because of their lack of familial connections, etc. If he wanted favors being pulled to expedite his own rise to greatness, if he wanted to not slip into the latter category of those being overlooked and therefore only obtaining moderate success, infiltrating this system through his fellow students was going to be key.

And now he had another student added to his list as a potentially useful person to befriend while at Hogwarts- the daughter of the Headmaster.

How precisely, Tom wasn't sure of yet. He'd need to find an appropriate opportunity to converse with her, or catch further gossip from others who had met her, and find out what sort of person she was to know how to manipulate his way into her good favor. And he would have to be careful that he didn't come across as a questionable friend that her father would discourage, otherwise he might not be able to later ingratiate himself to that father. But a foreign witch being dropped into British politics could always use a friend who didn't seem to care about her being from abroad, who could help her navigate the murky social waters, who could even seemingly sympathize with having lost a parent. If he made himself useful to her, befriended her, he could gain her father's approval and favor as well.

Even if he couldn't impress her reserved father, it was common knowledge that he was extremely old for even a wizard and could only live for just so much longer. Armando Dippet wasn't really gossiped about, but there was a couple times Tom had overheard bits of conversations from those wondering who would be someday appointed to succeed him at Hogwarts, or which of his distant relatives might inherit his fortune and would be best to curry the favor of. Eventually, the wizard would give way to old age. And as the only child to a pureblood wizard of some renown, she'd be inheriting a substantial amount from said father.

Combine that with the gossiping witch's opinion that the girl was pretty and likely to grow up more so- Dippet's daughter would indeed have other purebloods courting her for her favor, if not her hand in marriage. Purebloods seemed to obsess on their children's futures, and part of that were their prospects for marriage. They stopped short of arranging marriages at birth, that practice had apparently died out in the last several decades, but parental approval of courtships was obviously of high importance, and helping their children maneuver for a marriage with those of note was almost a game or competitive art among them.

Tom had no desire to marry anyone, no matter the benefits that may come of it. Some, if not most, would probably say that was just because he was eleven and a half years old and going through a 'girls are gross' phase. It wasn't. To him, the whole business of marriage was unnecessary complications and attachments he didn't want. His parents had been married, that much he did know, and look where that led- his father had apparently left his muggle wife while she was pregnant with him (perhaps regretting his marriage choice and the social ramifications) and she had left him in the orphanage with her death.

There were a significant percentage of successful figures in history who never married; they dedicated their full attention to their endeavors, they understood having priorities. Tom chose to look at those forerunners as the standards he should hold himself to.

Nor did Tom have any illusions that he'd be allowed to marry a pureblood witch with his murky, unknown wizarding roots; not unless he could someday track down his father and reclaim his heritage with undeniable proof he was from a pure-blood family. Otherwise, he'd get a pureblood spouse disowned by her family, which would defeat the purpose of him bothering to put himself through the torture and farce of getting married in the first place.

No, he was going to do the smart thing and garner friendships among those of influence. He'd be the modest friend with a great deal of talent who wasn't seeming to want any of those usual things from purebloods in demand, who had been their friend since childhood, and would subsequently have their favor and influence if he played his cards properly. While he occasionally made mistakes, he learned quickly. He kept the other children at the orphanage in line and from bullying him with his use of magic and snakes scaring them, but muggles were easier to scare and that wouldn't suffice in the wizarding world. He needed new tactics to get what he wanted. He was determined that he would become a master of these new rules and games and someday have everything he wanted.

Tom cast his attention back to the marketplace as he finished his last few bites of the first half of his mutton sandwich. There was a number of boring conversations taking place, but he still filed away in his memory the name of this singer, that botanist, this plant that could be used for this ailment. Every little bit could come in use eventually, even if only so that he knew what others may end up talking about and not be staring like a lack wit.

The clock bell in the center of the market rang, alerting all within hearing range that it was noon. Tom popped the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth. Time to get to his practice spot and try producing one of those handy little bluebell flames; he had found the instructions to conjuring them in his Charms book last night. If he managed to make one today, he was going to move on to the smokescreen spell in his Defense book. That one seemed a bit harder and was likely going to take a few days practice to pull off, so he wanted to try to accomplish the bluebell flame before the weekend arrived.

"… Francis DelCour, the enchanter, has also gone missing," a brunette witch said as she sat down a few tables in front of Tom. The young wizard slowed in wrapping up his remaining half of sandwich to hear the gossip, as this could be something important. "The French Ministry is reporting it as also being the work of Grindlewald's forces."

The older strawberry-blonde witch who sat across from her, back to Tom, shook her head. Her voice was concerned as she said, "It's really just too much. The Ministries may say that it isn't a war in the making over there, but it sure seems that way. Someone really needs to put a stop to Grindlewald and his madness before he tears the wizarding world apart with his rhetoric."

The brunette nodded. "I don't think I'm ever going to understand people like him, but I know that he's full of shite, pardon the language. And all these people he's attacking! DelCour was a pure blood who may have been vocal about accepting muggle-born spouses so houses didn't get too interbred, but it's not like he was actively fighting Grindlewald. Even still, now he's missing. Pureblood, half blood, muggle-born, even magical creatures and beasts! If he doesn't like what they have to say or thinks they're inferior, suddenly they're disappearing in some sort of blaze or mishap. It's wrong is what it is, and someone needs to stop him before there's nothing left but a handful of pure bloods who have to resort to incest to keep their so called purity."

The strawberry-blonde witch shuddered at that. "Diana! Please, I do have the desire to eat my lunch."

"My apologies. I just get so riled up whenever I read a new account of what's going on over there!"

"I understand, and agree, but please let us at least finish our lunch before you say anything so grotesque."

The brunette nodded and tucked in to her meal.

Seeing that there was no further news to be heard from there, Tom picked up his bags and made his way out of the market. He took a different way to the alley each time he visited, in hopes that would keep anyone from noticing his trips to the less savory district and following to find out what he was up to.

As Tom came closer to his destination, he made certain to keep an eye out for anyone else. There were very few people who came to Knockturn Alley, especially during the day, but he did end up having to duck back down the side street he was about to walk out from when he spotted four boys around his age or a year or two older walking down the street ahead of him. Tom recognized them, even from behind, as they were some ruffians who lurked around Knockturn Alley during the afternoons while their fathers drank themselves stupid at The White Wyvern. They must have just arrived with those fathers. Thankfully, they were walking away from him, so they didn't see him, but they were walking towards his alley, which meant he'd need to give them a head start to get to their own little spot they had claimed.

Tom had thus far been able to escape their notice, and planned to continue doing so until he at least had a wider range of spells to defend himself with. They were a type he knew all too well- lowlifes who liked to start fights and do stupid things to make themselves feel important. Just last week, one of the younger ones had been getting his ears boxed in the middle of the street by his old man because someone had caught him stealing an apple from one of the venders. From what Tom had overheard from his hiding spot down the block, (the father was rather loud in his inebriated state,) the older wizard wasn't upset with the theft itself, but that the boy had gotten himself caught and over such an insignificant thing.

Tom counted off two minutes in his mind, just to be certain they would be well away, then peeked around the corner of the building. They were nowhere in sight. He proceeded to his alley, keeping a look out for the other boys, but fortunately avoided any run ins.

While he set his bags up on the fire escape landing and reviewed his notes on the bluebell flame spell, he had the male viper go check to make certain the boys had gone off to their own area.

Tom was glad there was the fire escape to practice on, as it kept him out of direct line of sight with those on the street and, if those boys ever did stumble on him practicing, would make it harder to hit him with any spells because of the bars in the way. He had, at first, wondered that wizarding building had fire escapes, but then found out that outside of designated entrance points apparition wasn't possible in Diagon Alley. As most witches and wizards didn't keep a broom in arm's reach at every moment of the day, access to a fireplace could be cut off in a blaze, and young witches and wizards wouldn't know or be able to cast spells to combat fires, having an alternate means of escape was still considered prudent should a fire break out, and some of the buildings' owners had added that muggle idea over the last few decades.

Tom highly suspected the owner of the poison shop added a muggle invention to his building in case he ever needed an alternate way to exit his store should Aurors ever show up to take a closer look at his back rooms.

When the snake came back and reported that three of the boys were in their alley, Tom reasoned he was safe to start his practice session. Whichever boy who was not with his friends was likely off to conduct some trouble on his own and the others weren't in the mood to follow along. He had the snake keeping an eye out for him, so he'd have warning if the stray ruffian was coming this way while making his way back to his friends, and he wasn't practicing any potentially noisy spells today.

…Well, unless he really bolloxed this up and perhaps made the flame explode. It was only the second conjuring spell he had attempted so far, but he was reasonably certain he could pull this charm off. If he lost control of the flame during the conjuring, he did know a small water spell that would be able to put it out. He had taught himself that conjuring spell last week, and managed to learn it in five tries, which is part of why he felt ready to try out a fire spell. His first two attempts with water had produced no result, the next had produced a small trickle, and then a larger trickle, before the fifth attempt created a decent sized stream coming from his wand. Now that he had a bit more practice with it, he could shoot a decently powered jet of water out of his wand. If the fire conjuring followed the same pattern, he might fail a time or two, then get a bit of smoke or only a few flickers of flame, before getting the feel of the elemental magic enough to conjure the flame properly.

Tom nodded to himself. Yes, he was prepared to give this a try and he would conjure the flames by the end of today. He knew in some unnamable part of himself that he was born for greatness, and every little step he took towards mastering different facets of magic would bring him one step closer to his future power. He'd prove he could master magic better than any that came before, regardless if his blood wasn't entirely pure, and no one would dare find anything ill to say of, or do to, him again.

And when he someday reached those heights of fame and power, he was going to shove it so far down his father's throat that the bastard hopefully choked on it. He'd reclaim his rights and heritage eventually, but he'd never forgive his father for abandoning him, no matter who his mother was and whatever their problems had been. He shouldn't have been treated as though he was a bi-product piece of trash to be left on the wayside while his father moved on.

Some things were absolutely unforgiveable and he'd make certain his father came to regret his decision.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Tom's prediction that he'd be able to swiftly master the bluebell flame proved accurate. Perhaps it was because his own carefully banked but ever burning hatred of his father was in the back of his mind and influencing him, but it seemed he had an easier time with the element of fire than he had of water. His first attempt had caused little flickers of flame to appear, the second he managed a slightly larger and longer lasting set of flames, and the third was success. Tom conjured a series of bluebell flames and made them disappear, and each time they burned in a neatly self-contained ball of heat.

Pleased with his success and confident he would be able to do so again on a different day, Tom began trying to produce the smokescreen spell when he could hear the bells of the clock in the distance chiming for half past the hour.

While the bluebell flames may have been easy for him to master, Tom had yet to produce more than some small wisps of smoke when he heard the bells ring one o'clock. Given the more complex nature of this conjuring spell, however, Tom had already anticipated that may be the case. The flames, while somewhat difficult to be kept contained, were partially fueled by air and whatever miniscule things were floating about in it. The smoke had to be entirely conjured out of thin air, with no source but magic to create and sustain it.

Tom took a short break to check over his notes on the smokescreen spell, making certain he was remembering the instructions properly. When he was satisfied that he was indeed remembering everything he needed to, he resumed his practice.

When the bells rang half past the hour again, Tom was managing to produce thicker and longer tendrils of smoke that wavered out from his wand much like the snakes he could speak with. He just needed to work on dispersing the smoke now, letting the tendrils meld together and form the proper unbroken cloud of smoke. Despite his initial estimations, he was feeling reasonably confident with his progress over the last hour and felt he may actually get this spell down properly before the weekend.

Tom was working on thinning out the tendrils of his most recent attempt at creating a smokescreen when his concentration was utterly shattered by a series of screeches from what sounded like a hawk, and heard what sounded like firecrackers and little explosions. His dark gaze went towards the mouth of the alley and he saw the viper slithering as fast as it could towards him. Either someone was setting off some purchases from Gambol and Jape's, perhaps to torture an animal by strapping the fireworks to them, which wouldn't be surprising in this neighborhood; or there was some sort of magical fight breaking out in the street, which was also not unusual for this neighborhood.

" _What is that noise?_ " He hissed down at the snake, wanting to gauge how much danger he was in where he currently was.

Before the snake could answer, Tom heard another crackle and a girl's scream followed almost immediately after. There was laughter from an unknown number of people, what sounded like boys.

" _Wizards chasing witch_ ," the snake hissed up at Tom, coming to rest several feet from the base of the fire escape.

Whatever the snake hissed next, Tom couldn't make it out because the hawk's screeches were renewed and closer now, and there were long screams coming from a male of indeterminate age. From the high pitch, probably a rather young boy.

Tom's attention was drawn to a witch with long black hair and flowing green robes darting across the mouth of the alley, but being brought up short as a spell shot in front of her. She swerved towards the alley and then came up short again, clearly realizing she had nowhere to run. She didn't notice him above her in her panic, but he had a few seconds to notice she had pale skin, ruby red lips, and bright violet eyes that were wide with alarm as she realized her predicament. Nor did she notice the viper not five feet away from her, who had slithered back at her approach and was now poised to strike if she came any closer.

The witch quickly turned back the way she came and waved a pale wand toward the mouth of the alley, but nothing happened.

Tom heard a strange combination of rapid chirps, growls and hisses from the witch. He had no idea what she was saying, but apparently the viper did.

" _A mistress?_ " The viper hissed at the witch, lifting its head higher to be seen.

The witch turned in surprise and hissed back, " _Please, help me_."

Tom's shock at hearing another able to speak to snakes was deterred for the moment as he saw her attackers entering the alley, and recognized the three of them immediately as the ruffians who hung out a few blocks over. The one who had gotten his ears boxed by his father for stealing shot a disarming spell at her, as a small hawk harried another of the wizards who Tom was fairly certain was a slightly older cousin from their resemblance.

The dark-haired witch deftly ducked away from the magic, hissing again at the snake. " _Get the wizards! Please! I think they want to kill me!_ "

The viper hissed angrily and looked in the direction of the wizards. The older cousin was getting his wand hand torn open by the furious hawk and his wand dropped as he yelled in pain. The younger cousin, the thief, turned his attention on the hawk, leaving the eldest boy to deal with the witch. The viper began a speedy slither in their direction, keeping in the shadows next to the wall to avoid notice. Fortunately for Tom, the other wizards were so preoccupied by the witch and her hawk that they hadn't noticed him yet.

"Nowhere to go now, you little foreign bitch," said the tallest of the boys, who had greasy black hair and cruel grey eyes. Tom remembered hearing his name said by his friends- Antonin. "You and your damn bird have run out of places to hide and you're going to pay for Fenrir and Jerome getting bloodied up."

Ah, apparently the first male screams he had heard was the fourth boy he usually saw with these three. Funny, he didn't know a brute like that could scream in such a high pitch.

The witch threw herself to the ground to avoid the streak of red light Antonin aimed in her direction. She yelled back with blatant anger, voice thickly accented, "If you _Ladri_ hadn't stolen my money, they wouldn't have gotten scratched up!"

Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she had to roll across the ground because a yellow light came flying at her.

Tom was quickly calculating the situation out and coming to a surprising realization. Raven haired and violet eyed witch, obviously foreign from her accent, dressed in silk robes and shoes, with a hawk doing its damnedest to protect her as a familiar would. A hawk that he'd be willing to wager the next three weeks lunch money was a merlin, even if he couldn't see it that well with all its movement to be sure. Apparently the local riffraff had decided to steal from who he'd bet all his money, for both lunch and his remaining school supplies, was the Headmaster's daughter newly brought from Italy. He hadn't heard she could speak to snakes, though that wasn't surprising as he had been able to tell from Professor Dumbledore's reaction that it was something most wizards didn't seem to appreciate and would be best left unsaid.

Tom was wondering if these boys, who likely went to Hogwarts or would be due to go this autumn, were absolute brain-dead idiots to target the daughter of their Headmaster, and wondering where the hell the witch's father was for all this- when a cutting hex of some sort hit the hawk and it let out a screech of pain.

" _Cretini!_ I swear I'll feed you _Shnga_ to the rats for that!" the witch screamed, pushing herself up from where she lay.

Before she could get to her feet and do anything, though, a red light hit her directly in the chest, sending her flying backwards towards the brick wall at the end of the alley. A moment after Antonin got the spell off, the viper was sinking his fangs into the wizard's ankle and then making a speedy retreat.

Tom made the split-second decision to reveal his presence and risk the wrath of the ruffians to help the witch and possibly earn the good favor of her and her father. Three out of four were already injured, so his odds at winning were certainly good.

" _Spongify! Spongify!_ " Tom called out twice as he channeled magic through his yew wand, aiming for the wall the witch was about to collide with and the ground in front of it. Not waiting to see the results as two bursts of yellow light left the tip of his wand, trusting in his ability to properly cast a spell he had cast several dozen times in practice, he turned his attention to the attackers.

" _Expelliarmus_!" Tom said, aiming for the uninjured thief, whose attention was torn between fending off the hawk and trying to keep in sight the viper who had bitten his friend. The wand went flying from the thief's hand. Before Antonin, who was scrabbling away from the viper and yelling that he needed a healer, had a chance to see who was attacking the group, Tom disarmed him as well.

Unfortunately, the older cousin who had gotten his wand hand torn up had retrieved his wand and taken note of Tom up on the fire escape. Ignoring the blood flowing from his hand, he sent a yellow hex hurtling at Tom. His aim was off, though, and Tom only had to move a few inches to avoid the spell.

It was a good thing his reflexes were sufficient and the boy's aim was poor, however, because the spell cut straight through one of the decorative iron posts on the support railing.

That could have potentially maimed him for life, if not taken his head or another appendage clean off.

Tom ducked another cutting hex sent at him, attention back on the other wizard. This wasn't just about winning favor now. No, this was now personal and he was truly furious.

Tom sent one, two, three severing charms in rapid succession at the wizard. His wouldn't be as powerful as the boy's hexes, but he was counting on his speed and aim to even that out. His opponent clearly hadn't expected someone as young as him to be able to do much more than light up his wand or disarm someone because his eyes widened as he saw the charms flying back at him. He managed to duck the first one, but had to move to his left to avoid getting closer to the viper, which Tom had hoped he'd do. The boy couldn't throw himself far enough to avoid the second and third charms and they sliced into the side of his torso and left arm. Tom had been hoping to perhaps get somewhere more serious, but they were still hits.

The boy the hawk had been attacking was now sporting several gouges along his arms, from trying to fend off attacks to his face.

Antonin was shaking as the viper's poison started to affect him and apparently realized they had lost this fight. "Alright! Fuck! We give! Both of you call off your bloody familiars already!"

"Zephyr, come here," the witch called out, voice breathless.

The viper wasn't Tom's familiar and he didn't want to make the other wizards aware he could speak to snakes, but the viper had pulled back anyway to avoid getting crushed under foot and was slithering beneath the trash in the alley. So Tom disarmed the boy he had injured and then spared a brief glance in the witch's direction. He could see that she was standing and appearing mostly well, though her once fine robes were filthy and she was clutching her abdomen with one arm, obviously in pain and struggling to take even breaths. Hopefully that was only from whatever spell Antonin had shot at her, and not one of his missing their mark. As there was the concern of the other wizards trying to get their wands back, Tom quickly returned his gaze to them. He'd have to deal with the chance of a misplaced spell after.

The hawk was giving a final screech in rebuke to the boys, but did as his witch commanded and returned to her. Instead of letting her hold it and tend its injuries, though, it circled around her protectively, ready to make another attack in her defense. That proved not to be an unnecessary move because as soon as the hawk was back with its witch, all three disarmed wizards tried grabbing for their wands.

" _Flipendo_! _Expelliarmus_! _Flipendo_!" Tom called out as he swiftly made the corresponding movements for the Knockback Jinx at Antonin, used the return movement to again disarm the older cousin who had just wrapped his fingers around his wand, then used another knockback jinx on the thief. His hand could just barely move fast enough to keep up with the words, but he managed to execute all three spells. He had the satisfaction of seeing that the Knockback Jinx worked just as well on people as it did on the stones he had been practicing on; both boys hit with it went elbow over arse and sprawling on the pavement a few feet away from where they started. The older cousin lost his hold on his wand and flew several feet back with the disarming spell. Not bad effects for a couple of spells found in a first year Defense book.

"You can come back for your wands another day and hope until then that I've left them in one piece," Tom called down as the boys groaned from their prone positions, trying to keep his excitement about successfully pulling off the spells contained so he wouldn't give away that this was his first duel and winning one was a new thing for himself. "You'd get that and more if the Aurors are called and they find out you robbed and attacked this witch. Now, return what you've stolen. Then get yourselves to your fathers so they can try to patch you up or take you to Mungo's for treatment."

"Bugger… Off…" Antonin coughed out, though it was clearly in defeat. "Jerome… help me up… Now…"

The older cousin of the thief, Jerome, helped said thief to his feet first. The boy leaned against the wall of Ariadne's for support as he waited for his cousin to help Antonin to his feet. Antonin couldn't properly support himself at this point, however, and yelled in pain when he tried to put weight on his bitten leg. Jerome had to help him make his way out of the alley.

" _Flipendo!_ " Tom called out as he twirled his wand in the thief's direction, who had been trying to follow the other two boys out of the alley. The Knockback Jinx sent him crashing back into the wall he had been using for support.

The other two boys paused to see what happened, mostly because the older cousin clearly wasn't going to leave the thief on his own, even with as ill as Antonin was.

Tom yelled over at the thief, allowing some of his disdain to show as he taunted, "Was I too unclear for a petty thief to understand? Let's try this again, and I better not need to say it a third time- You're not leaving with the lady's money. Give it back, immediately."

The thief gave Tom a vicious glare, but his cousin said sharply, "Just toss it back, you bloody wanker. This wasn't worth whatever few galleons or handful of sickles you got off the foreign bitch."

The thief turned his glare on his cousin, but then sighed and one of his bloody hands went into a pocket in his trousers. He pulled out a small cloth pouch and chucked it at the witch. The pouch came up short by several feet, but at least it was in her direction. Jerome turned back around and continued on his way out of the alley with Antonin. The thief took off after his companions, keeping a wary gaze on Tom the entire time.

Tom withheld from any further attacks, as it would have been poor form to attack someone who had given up and was retreating. When the boys were out of sight, he turned his gaze back to the witch. She was watching him warily and still breathing heavily.

Well, he couldn't really blame her for the look she was giving him, given what just happened with four other wizards from Britain. He'd need to convince her that he didn't mean her any harm, otherwise she might sic that hawk of hers on him. He was pretty sure he could handle the hawk with a few well-placed spells before it could reach him, but it was fast, and harming it would certainly lose any good favor with the witch that he might earn from having helped her.

Knowing she'd understand him, Tom took a calculated risk and hissed to her, " _Are you badly injured?_ "

The witch's eyes widened with shock, her jaw slackening, though not quite dropping. Her falcon landed in front of her and stared at him with its head quirked to one side in confusion.

After a few seconds, the girl collected herself and hissed back between breaths, " _How can you, speak like, a snake?_ "

" _Same as you, I think_ ," Tom said with a small smirk.

The girl blinked in surprise. She gave a nervous laugh, then winced in pain. She said in accented English, "Not exactly, the same, I think." Her expression became inquisitive as she continued looking up at him. "What are you, doing, up there, anyway?"

"I asked you a question first and it seems to be the more important. You can't even finish a sentence without flinching and gasping in pain."

The witch hesitated then said, "I'll be fine. He just, knocked the, breath out of me, with his, stupid little spell."

Tom's eyes narrowed on her. "You're lying." The witch's expression became surprised. "Did one of my spells miss its mark?'

The witch hesitated again to answer, then shook her head. "No. And thank you, for whatever, you did. I'd be worse, if I had hit, that wall, or ground, as they were."

"Can I come down without you sending your hawk after me?" Tom asked, composing his expression to one of concern.

The witch hesitated a third time, then nodded and said, "Zephyr, stay put. He's helping."

The hawk, which was indeed a merlin, gave a wary nod, but kept his gaze on the wizard.

Tom grabbed his bags and climbed down the ladder with haste. He said as he descended, "While I doubt they'll want to tell their fathers what happened to get them so banged up because they're the ones who would be in the worst kinds of trouble for this, one of them has a snake bite, the other three have injuries from your hawk, and one of those three has some nasty cuts from my spells. Someone is going to come looking for their wands and the ones that injured them." Tom jumped the last few steps and looked at the witch. "If you can walk for a few minutes at least, it'd be best for us to leave before we get caught here; otherwise you might be in some trouble for sending your familiar and a deadly viper at them, and I could get in some trouble for dueling, even in defense of another." He conveniently forgot to add that he could be in trouble for underage magic specifically. He already had had an excuse he thought was believable if he somehow got caught practicing this summer, and that needed a veil of ignorance to work.

The girl considered his words and then nodded. "I think, I can move, alright. It's just, my ribs. I think, that spell, might have, bruised, one or two."

"Do you feel anything strange where the spell hit, besides pain?"

"Like what?"

"Like any magic remaining and potentially doing something worse than a few bruised ribs?"

The girl didn't immediately answer, but this time she was clearly paying attention to her injury. "No. I think, knocking me off, my feet, and some bruising, was all he did."

Tom nodded and retrieved her money pouch, noticing when he picked it up that it was thickly woven, incredibly soft cotton heavily embroidered with silk threads. Pushing aside for the moment his instinctive resentment towards those who could afford such niceties, he brought the pouch over to her.

"Thank you," the raven-haired witch said, tucking it into a pocket in her robes.

"Are you sure you can make it out of here?" Tom asked doubtfully. She looked like she was having a hard enough time staying on her feet.

She nodded, then bit her lower lip as she looked around. She gasped out, sounding embarrassed, "I have, no idea, where to go. This is, my first time, at Dia-agon…" Her words broke off as her legs buckled and her wand fell from her hand, clattering to the ground.

Tom quickly grabbed hold of her before she could hit the ground and pulled her back to her feet, having half-expected that to happen with how pale and shaky she looked. Her hawk was giving little concerned screeches as it scrabbled to get out from in front of her.

The witch's breathing was more ragged as she grabbed the front of his robes to help steady herself. "S-Sorry," she gasped out. "I'm sorry. I'm just, a little, dizzy."

Tom eased her to the ground as carefully as he could, hoping the merlin wouldn't go for his eyes because it thought he was to blame for her condition. "You're not going to be able to go anywhere like this. You need a healer."

"No! No, healer," she immediately protested. "I'll be, fine. Just, need, a minute, to catch, my breath."

"Yeah, and I'm the Headmaster of Hogwarts," Tom retorted sarcastically.

The girl glared up at him and then hung her head. She gave a pained laugh. "No, actually, that'd be, my father…" She gave an unhappy, long groan now. "He's going, to be, so mad, at me, for this… First time, he leaves me, alone… and this happens."

"It's not like you asked to be robbed," Tom said with a shrug, glad she took his bait and mentioned her father, but not commenting on it. "Though chasing after him wasn't the smartest idea, especially as you can't seem to do any magic yet."

The girl's head lifted and violet eyes were glaring at him again. "I only got, my wand, today."

Tom raised an eyebrow in surprise, not realizing her first time out shopping in Diagon Alley was also her first day with her wand. He'd have figured her father would have had a private audience with Ollivander or something when he first brought her here to England, or that she had gotten her wand in Europe. Instead, he simply said, "And that makes it better how? That was more reason to just let him have the pouch and call for help."

"I thought, Zephyr, and I, could handle, him," the witch said in her defense. "I didn't know, he had, friends waiting."

"Where there's one street rat, there's usually more," Tom said wryly.

The girl shrugged. "You didn't, answer, my question. What were, you doing, up there?"

"Practicing my spell work."

The witch gave him a confused look. "Do you live, around here?"

Tom shook his head. "No, but I can't practice there."

He didn't want to talk about the orphanage with the witch, so he instead stood and looked around, trying to think of what to do now. He could hear the bells ringing for two o'clock. He wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed since the fight first broke out in this alley, but they really needed to get out of here, and she needed a healer to look at her. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of anything in his limited spell repertoire that would be able to help. He had been practicing the basic levitation spell at the beginning of the Charms book, and innately could make small objects levitate, but he knew he couldn't lift something as heavy as the witch yet, not without jostling her around because he wouldn't be able to keep her steady, which would aggravate her injury.

"How the bloody hell are we going to get you out of here?" he muttered in frustration.

The witch looked around and then sighed. "I don't know… But, I think, you're right… I'm not going, anywhere, on my own." The hawk started chirping and clucking at the witch. She nodded and then said, "I can send, Zephyr, for my, father. You can leave, if you want, to avoid, trouble, for defending, me."

"And leave you alone, without even the hawk to protect you?" Tom asked incredulously. "You did want to make it out of this alley, right? What if one of the fathers of those boys shows up and decides to finish you off to eliminate a witness to what they did? With only me left, if they didn't get to me as well, do you think the Aurors will take my word over all theirs? Not likely. You might want to think about what sort of people hang around here before suggesting anything else that stupid."

"You were, here, alone," the witch retorted.

"I can take care of myself well enough," Tom said briskly. "This is the first problem I've had in the month I've been coming here to practice. I don't go looking for fights."

The witch sighed, apparently too exhausted from trying to breathe and talk to argue further. She finally said, "Sorry, for ruining, your practice," and she actually did sound apologetic.

Tom shrugged. "Not like you meant to. Besides, it could always count as a practical exam on what I've learned."

As hoped, the witch laughed, albeit briefly because of her injury.

"What's your name, by the way," Tom asked.

"Ama- Amaryllis," the witch gasped out. "Amaryllis, Dippet. And you?"

Tom crouched down again and held out his hand. "Tom Marvolo Riddle."

The witch looked at his hand in surprise, then reached out to shake it. Something like a static shock crackled as their hands met, causing them both to jerk their hands away in pained surprise.

"What the…" Tom cut himself off before he ended up cursing again. Cursing was vulgar and he was working on breaking that habit so he wouldn't debase himself like most of the children at the orphanage frequently did.

"You didn't, do that?" Amaryllis asked, looking at him warily.

He shook his head. "Might be that spell that sent you flying is doing more damage than you thought."

She nodded and said weakly, "Must be it. I need, my father."

"Go ahead, send your familiar for him. I'll wait here with you."

Amaryllis nodded. "Thank you." She said something to the bird in that weird clicking and chirping language.

The hawk, which had been resting itself near her legs wearily, looked at Tom in clear mistrust and clucked back.

The witch interrupted sharply with a small screech and then a few chirps and clicks.

Zephyr relented and, after giving Tom a final wary look, hoisted itself up, injured leg trembling.

Amaryllis reached over and grabbed it by the midsection as she said something to it in the strange bird-like language. The bird spread out its wings and she tossed it straight up, gasping in pain as she did so. The bird was able to use the momentum to lift itself into the air, wings beating hard to gain altitude. It managed to stay airborne and flew higher, then took off in the direction of Carkitt Market.

"Tom?" the witch said in a breathless whisper.

"Yeah?" he asked, turning his attention back to her and noticing she was paler than ever.

"D-don't, tell," Amaryllis struggled to form the words as she started to slump to one side, causing Tom to have to grab her by the shoulders to keep her from toppling over. She blinked rapidly and tried again, words barely audible as she resorted to hissing them out. " _Don't tell, my father, you hear, me, speak, to, Zephyr, or snake…_ "

" _I won't tell, but you need to stay awake_ ," Tom said back in hisses, tone making it an order, not a request.

" _Don't, think, I…_ " and with that, the girl's eyes rolled back in her head and she went completely limp.

Tom looked down at the unconscious witch in his arms with more than a small amount of exasperation. This was not the least how he expected his day to go. Hopefully he could put the right spin on this; otherwise he might be initially blamed for her injury until she came to and verified his story. He was fairly confident in his acting skills, however, and that he had a good enough cover, especially as so much of the truth would work in his favor.

Well, he'd just have to wait and see. Hopefully that damn hawk wouldn't be too long, Tom thought as he very slowly shifted the witch so she was laying a little flatter. Being crunched over like that wasn't helping her breathing any, and he needed her to wake up and help keep him out of trouble.

Tom had to flex the muscles in his arm beneath Amaryllis's back; it was starting to go numb from holding her. He glanced down at her in frustration. Playing the 'good Samaritan' was a lot of trouble and she had better appreciate this. Especially as he undoubtedly just made himself a few enemies, before the school year even started. Those scales needed to at least balance out, preferably tip in his favor.

He had been hoping just a few hours ago for the chance to make a good impression on the Headmaster's daughter, and he had been given that chance. He'd say he did a passable job of things. It would have been better if he could have gotten her out of the alley on his own, but he had done what he could given the circumstances and his current knowledge of magic. Fate seemed to be smiling on him and giving him opportunities to learn a lot of important things about the wizarding world, and now it dropped this opportunity quite literally in his lap. Hopefully fate held out a bit longer and this situation played out in his favor, rather than to his detriment. If it did, it'd be just another sign that he was correct in his instincts that he was destined to succeed and have the wizarding world and all the wonders of magic in the palm of his hand someday.

Tom tilted his head a little as he stared at the witch's features, now having the chance to do so. The gossiping witch in the market was right, he could admit as a detached clinical observation. The Headmaster's daughter was very pretty in a classical sense- heart shaped face, symmetrical and proportional features, pale skin that was probably flawless when it wasn't covered in dirt from rolling around on the ground, long thick black eyelashes and naturally red lips that were full. Barring suddenly coming down with Dragon Pox or some other horribly scarring disfigurement, she was almost guaranteed to grow up to be an extraordinarily beautiful witch.

That was always a plus. He had heard on more than a few occasions that he was an attractive boy. Regardless of what people said about what's inside being important, he noticed they still instinctually treated attractive people like himself more favorably than ugly people. Being considered attractive seemed to help balance out in people's eyes that he was a poor kid, and then showing any sort of intelligence pushed their opinions of him further into the positive. If his plan worked out and the Headmaster's daughter ended up being one of the many he'd charm and have influence with, her being attractive physically, and not just financially or mentally, and drawing people to her because of it would mean more people for him to interact with and hopefully gain influence with.

But, first things first- he had to make sure he had her solidly on his side before he could make use of her. And to do that, he needed to make sure this incident went in his favor.

Time to pull out the acting skills and hope for the best when her father arrived.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Armando Dippet left Cogg and Bell's with a relieved sigh for two reasons. First, because his watch had been successfully fixed. Secondly, and the larger reason, because it got him away from Master Cogg's prying questions. The wizarding community was quite small when compared to the muggle world and gossip spread like wildfire. He knew the news that he had a daughter he had never revealed before now would incite gossip. However, he hadn't expected it to spread quite so fast. Master Cogg was as bad as a bored housewife when it came to gossip and he had tried prying every five minutes or so to get more information out of him about his daughter.

Well, at least that annoyance was over with. And he would make it to the fountain with about fifteen minutes to spare, which would give him a chance to rest while he waited for Amaryllis to meet him. He was certainly not as young as he used to be and would be glad for the chance to sit, before having to start running about again to finish their shopping. He just hoped that Amaryllis wouldn't get distracted in a store and forget about meeting him. He'd hate to have to go hunting for her and have an argument with her ensue.

Armando weaved through the crowd, cataloging in his mind the remaining stops they needed to make. With some luck, they might get all the shopping done today and could avoid any more crowds and gossip for the rest of the summer. Or he might just send Landey or Zabby to finish up the shopping. They were the best of his house elves when it came to money and shopping efficiently, and they knew their way around Diagon Alley because they were the ones who headed the manor's upkeep when he was away at Hogwarts.

As he drew closer to the center of the market, Armando instinctively took note of some Aurors speaking with people in the crowd. Wondering what happened, he made his way closer.

"…I think it was that Mulciber boy that did it," a plump middle-aged witch was saying to Auror Wilkins. "It was hard to tell, though, with the hawk flying all about him, trying to take it back…"

Armando felt like his old heart stopped for a few seconds. All thoughts certainly stopped except one: Amaryllis. With a discipline that had been fostered by nearly two and a half centuries as an Auror, he forced himself to remain calm and not jump to any hasty conclusions. While not a common familiar, it was entirely possible another witch or wizard had a hawk familiar that could have been attacking someone. He made his way closer while listening to the conversation, gaze searching the crowd for any sign of his daughter or her hawk.

"…And then he was disappearing off that way, and a girl with dark hair and green robes was chasing after him, yelling in a heavy accent for him to give it back. I didn't see anything else after that."

That time, Armando was certain his heart stopped for a few seconds. Especially as he wasn't seeing any sign of his daughter.

Not caring about being rude, Armando pushed himself through the crowd, towards the Aurors. As he made it past the worst of the throng, he found himself next to a small meat vendor cart. Next to it was a black luggage trunk propped up that he didn't recognize. He did, however, recognize the tiny pale puffskein on top of the trunk, standing out against the dark luggage.

"Irma," Armando interrupted the conversation. "Are you sure the girl had dark hair and was wearing green robes today?"

"Oh, Headmaster Dippet, I didn't see you there. And yes, yes I am. Is she one of your students?"

"Headmaster," Auror Wilkins said with concern. "Do you know anything about either child involved in the pick-pocketing?"

Pick-pocketing, Armando thought with a sigh of relief. If that was all this was, Amaryllis might very well have tried to chase down a thief, lost him along a street, and not made her way back to the market yet. Or she might have caught up with him and been injured. That was a thought that squashed his relief. "I very well may. What sort of hawk was chasing the boy?"

"I believe Jacob Fowl, the vendor, said that it was a merlin. He got a decent look at it before the incident."

"A merlin? Are you certain, Wilkins?" Armando asked insistently.

"I'm certain that's what Fowl said. Why?"

Before Armando could answer, he heard a familiar screech from above.

"Oh, thank Helga," he breathed in relief in honor of his house's founder, searching the sky for Zephyr.

His relief was short lived, however. A dark stain of crimson could be seen on the hawk's leg as it flew closer. He was bleeding. And Amaryllis was still nowhere in sight. The hawk screeched again as it came closer.

"Zephyr, where's Amaryllis?" Armando called up sharply. "Show me."

The bird gave a bob of its head and turned back the way it had been flying.

Armando shoved past anyone in his way, ignoring the glares, exclamations, and mutters; shopping bags forgotten in his concern to reach his daughter. The hawk led him out of Carkitt Market and into Martial Alley. Armando moved as fast as he could after the bird, adrenaline allowing him to jog in pursuit.

It wasn't fast enough. He wished he knew exactly where she was so he could just apparate to her. He was more than well enough versed, still remembered the counter-charms from his Auror days, that he could bypass the wards here and do so, if only he knew where he had to land.

Why did he leave her alone? He should have listened to his instincts. He had had his reservations about letting her wander the Market on her own, she had gotten pick-pocketed and disappeared, and now Zephyr was injured and showing up without her. Armando knew the hawk suffered all sorts of discomforts because it was devoted to his daughter and wanted to be with her at all times. Zephyr wouldn't leave her by herself, even if he was injured, unless something serious had happened to her and he had no choice but to find help.

Armando tried to keep his thoughts in order as he chased after the hawk past the short stretch of Martial Alley and into the twisting dirty street of Knockturn Alley. It wasn't easy. He had seen similar situations end poorly during his days as an Auror, though the perpetrators weren't school children. He had to keep in mind that this was likely the work of the inept but troublesome Mulciber boy, not hardened Dark Wizards.

Panicking wouldn't help matters, Armando reminded himself. Panicking wouldn't help Amaryllis. He would not jump to the worst case conclusions, nor berate himself with however many ways this could have been avoided. At least, not right now.

He just needed to follow Zephyr to her, and he'd find out what happened. Then he could help her. He had enough centuries of experience, whatever had happened, he could help his daughter. He had not only just found out he had a daughter to have her taken away like this. He'd find her and she'd be okay.

Zephyr wheeled around another corner and gave a screech.

Armando heard an anxious voice, a boy's voice, call back, "Took you long enough! I thought merlins were supposed to be fast?"

The hawk gave an angry screech back.

Armando came around the corner a few seconds later and found Zephyr coming to a landing next to a dark-haired boy holding his daughter in his arms. The young wizard, who was not the Mulciber boy, looked up at him with relief written on his expression.

"Oh, thank Merlin! Are you Amaryllis' father?"

"Yes. What happened?" Armando asked as he rushed over, taking note of blood splatters around the alley, yet neither child appeared to be blatantly injured. He sank to his knees next to them, letting the boy continue to hold Amaryllis, half laying in his lap, to avoid aggravating whatever injuries she had obviously sustained until he could assess them. He began running diagnostic spells on his daughter as the boy answered in a frightened rush.

"I was here practicing some spell work, where I wouldn't be in anyone's way, when I heard crackles from spells being fired off, a girl screaming and a hawk screeching. She was being chased by some boys and ended up running in here as her hawk tried to fend them off. There was yelling about them stealing money from her and her familiar bloodying one of them up. They sent some more spells at her and she didn't seem able to defend herself. I started helping the hawk and we managed to run them off, but in the process one of the boys hit her with some sort of spell that looked like a red bolt of light. It sent her flying backwards, like a disarming spell. I had stopped her from hitting the wall too hard by casting a Spongify on it before she reached it, but she said her ribs were hurting where she got hit by the spell and she was having trouble breathing. When I tried to help her from the alley, she lost her footing and didn't seem well enough to stand. She told me her name was Amaryllis and sent Zephyr off to find you because she had no idea where she was or how to get back to where she was supposed to be meeting you. I told her I'd stay with her while her familiar was gone and tried to keep her talking, or at least listening, but she passed out. She hasn't woken back up."

"Did you hear what incantation was used for the spell that hit her?" Armando asked, still running diagnostic spells. So far he couldn't find the presence of Dark magic and her vital signs were fairly strong. Her heart was beating a bit fast and her breathing was shallow and hitching, but his scans indicated hairline fractures in two of her ribs, which would explain both.

"No, sir," the boy said fretfully. "I'm sorry. Everything was happening so quickly. Is she going to be okay?"

"I think she'll be fine, yes," Armando said once he completed a final preliminary scan. "She seems to have just fractured a few ribs and fainted from either the pain or not being able to breathe easily. Her ribs will heal with a few potions and, as she's not showing signs of deprivation, she should wake up shortly. And are you alright? Were you hit by any spells?"

The boy shook his head. "No, sir. They didn't notice me at first, so I was able to disarm two of them before they realized I was there, and Zephyr had already injured another pretty badly. I managed to avoid the spells the last one threw at me." The boy shuddered and glanced up at the fire escape on the side of the building. He said, voice quivering a bit as his gaze went back to Amaryllis, "I'm glad I did, too. That one wasn't shooting disarming spells and knockback jinxes."

Armando glanced up and saw a rail sliced through and another gouge in a wall. He felt his stomach churn at the thought that Amaryllis could have been suffering from more than just a few fractured bones. He asked in consternation, "One of the attackers did that?"

The boy nodded, closing his eyes as he shuddered again. "One of the older boys. He was shooting that hex at all three of us. It's what hit Zephyr, I think, but he got some swipes at the boy's hand and it threw his aim off enough that I could dodge his spells. And, I don't know where it came from, if one of them had it as a familiar or conjured it, but there was a snake slithering about during the fight at one point. It bit one of the other boys, which caused some distraction too."

Armando nodded and looked around in concern, casting a spell to try locating the snake. Two pulses of light showed further back in the alley, coming from the wall of the building to their right. There was also a small haze back there. Two snakes, then, and that could be a nest or prey of theirs. Considering they were nesting in the walls of Scryvenwretch, he'd bet anything that the negligent, drug addicted poison-maker had something to do with the snakes being there. That man was a bleeding menace to society. Armando was going to inform the Aurors of this and, if he had anything to say in the matter, he'd make certain Scryvenwretch was shut down by the end of this weekend. He'd also wager that, despite the boy's guesses, the snake biting one of the attackers had something to do with his half-blood daughter being of a nymph. Animals of any sort would rush to her aid if aware she was in danger. But the boy didn't need to know that. It was safer for him to think it was one of the other wizards losing control of a familiar or a conjured snake and it biting one of their friends, or that the snake was just in the wrong spot at the wrong time and was defending itself on instinct.

Armando turned his gaze back to the hawk, who was settled on the ground, leg still bleeding. He cast a quick healing spell on Zephyr, who startled when magic came at it, but relaxed as the pain he was in disappeared. The wizard cast a diagnostic spell to check that it was only a flesh wound, and was thankful to find that the spell hadn't cut into any of the hawk's hollow bones, as that would be difficult to heal, more so than a human's.

"You did very well, Zephyr. Thank you." Armando said, stroking the bird's head for a moment.

The hawk made a small unhappy noise, but let him stroke it, then its gaze went back to his mistress.

"What's your name, child?" Armando asked, scanning the alley for anything else he might have missed. He spotted shopping bags behind the children, and the ends of three wands poking out from two different piles of trash near the front of the alley.

"Tom, sir," the boy said quietly.

"How old are you, Tom?"

"Eleven, sir. I'll be twelve at the end of December."

Armando's gaze went back to the boy, studying his features. Ollivander mentioned just this morning an incoming first year with dark features, serious yet polite, named Tom. What were the chances? Was it that same boy? "…And your last name, Tom?"

"Riddle, sir," the boy said quickly, voice nervous again. "My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I'm sorry for not giving the full before, sir."

Armando needed a few seconds to collect himself, careful not to show his surprise. He'd really like to know how the Ollivanders managed to so accurately predict things about a wizard or witch from their wands. And Garrick hadn't been off in that this year was already shaping up to be eventful.

The Headmaster shook his head slightly, deciding he was going to take Ollivander's opinions more seriously from now on. To the boy watching him in confusion, he said evenly, "That's alright, child. I'm sure this has been quite the upsetting experience. What did you say you were doing in this alley before the fight broke out?"

"I was practicing some wand work, sir. I can't where I live, you see, as it was indicated to me that muggles can't know about magic. So, as this is the only wizarding town I know of and can reach 'til school starts, I found someplace here where I wouldn't be in the way in case I messed up a spell. I come and practice what I've been studying after I do my school shopping so I'll hopefully be prepared some when school starts in September. I was working on bluebell flames and smokescreens when they showed up."

Armando's eyebrows raised in surprise, climbing higher as the boy continued speaking. "Bluebell flames and smokescreens?"

Tom gave a small nod. "Yes, sir. I've seen people using the bluebell flames a lot, so I figured that would probably be something I should practice. And the smokescreen looked hard, so I wanted to try working on it before school started so I didn't look a bit foolish when it came to cast the spell in class."

"And how did you fend off the boys attacking my daughter?"

"Mostly the Disarming spell and Knockback jinx in our Defense book, sir. When the older boy was tossing cutting hexes at me, I cast a couple of the Severing Charm from our Herbology book at him to break his concentration, then disarmed him. And then there was the Softening Charm on the wall and ground to help soften her impact."

Armando nodded slowly, glancing around the alley again and noting where the wall and the ground were visibly changed.

"I know it was wrong to hurt him back, sir, but I got scared and he was dodging the disarming spell and I thought I needed to try something else and I don't know too many spells right now."

Armando shook his head and said levelly, "No, dear boy. It's quite alright to defend yourself when someone is using such spells against you. However, what made you want to practice here? Did no one explain to you that underage wizards aren't allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts?"

The boy's eyes widened and he gave a nervous gulp. "N-no, sir, they didn't. I just knew that muggles weren't supposed to find out about magic because my guardian wasn't told where I would be going to school, nor what for. And as I knew of Diagon Alley because that is where I was told to come for my school shopping, I found someplace out of the way to practice because I didn't want to be behind the other students when school started. Do you know if I could be expelled for it?"

Armando shook his head. "No, no. I dare say you won't be expelled. Not if you didn't know the rules about underage magic. We're not so harsh as that."

"Are you sure, sir?" Tom asked fearfully.

Armando nodded. "Yes, I am sure. Especially as you meant no harm in coming to practice, and you didn't know the rules, you would not get more than a verbal warning about this. As you being here and knowing a bit of magic quite likely saved my daughter from being maimed or killed, and you kept her ribs from being completely shattered, I can promise you, as Headmaster of your future school, you won't be reprimanded for this. You will simply need to abide by that rule now that you know it unless you need defend yourself again, though I sincerely hope such a situation doesn't occur."

Tom blinked several times in surprise. "H-Headmaster," he said in a small voice. "You're Hogwart's Headmaster, sir? The Headmaster Armando Dippet on my letter?"

Armando nodded with a small smile. "Yes, child, I am."

Both wizards' gazes darted down to Amaryllis, who was still half laying on the boy's lap and in his arms, as she was giving a pained groan.

Thank Helga, Armando thought. If she stayed unconscious much longer, he was going to have to see if a Renerveate Spell would bring her around.

"Amaryllis?" the elderly wizard said, patting her cheek. "Amaryllis, my dear, can you hear me?"

Amaryllis gave another pained groan. "Y-yes… I hear, you."

"Can you open your eyes?"

After a few seconds, her eyes fluttered open. Her gaze went between the two wizards. She said to her father in a shaky voice, "Good. Zephyr, found you. Is he, okay?"

"Zephyr will be just fine. I've already healed the wound he took. How are you feeling?"

"My ribs, hurt. Breathing, hurts, them more."

"That's not surprising; the spell that hit you caused hair line fractures in two of your ribs."

"Oh," Amaryllis breathed out. She looked to Tom. "You still, okay?"

"Yeah," Tom said dismissively. "I told you, I'm fine."

"No one, came back?"

"No, just your father. You weren't out more than fifteen or twenty minutes."

Amaryllis nodded. "Thanks, again."

"It's fine, really. I wasn't going to watch someone getting attacked three to one, especially not when they were the innocent person. You don't need to keep thanking me."

"Still, thank you."

Tom rolled his eyes with a sigh.

Satisfied that she was coherent and likely not under any sort of immediately untraceable effects after observing her, especially as it was school boys who had hexed her and not full-grown wizards, Armando waved his wand at her torso and gently touched above each broken rib as he said a numbing spell.

Amaryllis gave a sigh of relief and her eyes closed.

"We're going to need to move you, my dear, so I can bring you home and give you a potion to mend your ribs."

Amaryllis gave a nod.

Armando was lifting his wand to conjure a stretcher when he heard footsteps jogging down the street towards them. He halted that movement, instead lifting himself to his feet and ignoring his joints creaking in protest to the sudden stretching. He trained his wand on the entrance of the alley, but lowered it when two wizards came into view.

"There you are!" Wilkins exclaimed with relief.

"Wilkins, Blishwick," Armando said with a nod to them as they approached.

"What happened here?" Wilkins asked, gaze scanning the scene. "You went dashing off without explanation and we've been looking everywhere for you. Is that the girl who got pick-pocketed?"

"Yes. This is my daughter, Amaryllis, and she was the one the Mulciber boy pick-pocketed," Armando explained. "I apologize for leaving without making you aware that I was tracking the victim; my concern was for reaching my daughter."

Wilkins waved a hand in dismissal. "You're a former Auror and it was family in question, I can hardly blame you for racing off to handle it on your own. So what happened here and who's this lad?"

"Apparently the Mulciber boy had three friends with him, likely his cousin's group of ruffians. She obviously didn't know that when she tried to get her money pouch back and ended up being chased down by them. They were attacking her and her familiar, but this boy thankfully came to her rescue and helped run them off. A snake also apparently bit one of the boys and he'll need treatment if he's not already getting it, as I expect it was venomous. I located a pair nesting over there," Armando pointed, "in the wall Scryvenwretch's. I suspect that the snake had the misfortune of leaving its nest to hunt for food, was caught in the cross fire, and bit one of the boys in self-defense. I expect both snakes to be safely captured and Scryvenwretch's shop to be thoroughly searched, as I would hazard the guess that is where they came from and I know he doesn't have permits to be personally harvesting venoms."

Blishwick nodded and approached the wall cautiously, casting the same animal locating charm Armando had used.

While his partner handled that matter, Wilkins asked, "Are either of these two hurt?"

"My daughter sustained two fractured ribs from a force spell of some sort. Otherwise, she appears to be fine. The boy is thankfully uninjured."

Wilkins nodded and asked the boy, "What's your name, son?"

"Tom, sir. Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Do you know the boys who attacked Miss Dippet, Tom?"

"No, sir," Tom said with a shake of his head.

"Did any of them say the other's names?"

Tom thought on that, then said hesitantly, "I think one mentioned the name Fenris or Fenrir? He wasn't in the alley. It sounded like, from what they said, that Zephyr had scratched him while defending Amaryllis before they got here. Another boy called the one who hexed her Anton? Maybe Antonin or Antonis? He was the tallest and had black greasy hair. The other two, they looked somewhat alike, and I think the tallest boy called the older one Jeremy or Jerome? The younger one, I didn't get his name, but he was the one who stole her money. He tossed it back before running off and it's in her pocket now."

Wilkins nodded with a displeased frown. "Which one was bit?"

"The one that hexed Amaryllis, the tallest one. He was closest to it and got bit just after hexing her."

"What the bloody hell was Scrivenwretch thinking?!" Blishwick exclaimed as he levitated one of the snakes out of the hole. "Eyelash vipers?!"

Wilkins looked over and his eyes widened. He cast a quick petrifying spell at the furiously hissing snake. Blishwick lowered it to the ground, then they repeated the process of him levitating the next snake out and Wilkins freezing it. Blishwick pointed his wand at some of the trash in the alley, transfiguring it into a sturdy cage, and levitated the adult vipers into it. He transfigured another cage out of the trash, tossed some trash into it, and then began to carefully levitate the snake eggs out of the hole, one by one, trying not to disturb them.

Wilkins turned to one side as soon as the adult snakes were safely caged, swirled his wand and called out, " _Expecto Patronum!_ " The glowing form of his patronus charm poured from his wand, becoming a raven. He kept his wand pointed on the patronus as he said, "Bilby, we have eyelash vipers outside Scrivenwretch's. Check Mungo's for underage wizards admitted for snake bites. Likely Antonin Dolohov. Then get Intoxicating Substances and Beasts here to search the shop. Robbins, find the Mulciber cousins and Fenrir Greyback. Hold them for questioning on attempted robbery, assault of a wizard, a witch and her familiar, and underage magic usage."

Wilkins waved his wand and the spectral raven silently streaked off at an unnatural speed to the partners indicated. His gaze went back to Tom. "I'll need to get a complete statement from you before you can go home." His attention went to Armando before the boy could reply. "And I'll need to have both children brought in once we have the boys brought in so they can identify their attackers."

Armando nodded, then asked the boy, "You live in a muggle home, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Tom said with obvious embarrassment, a blush forming on his cheeks. "Well, to be precise, an orphanage, sir. My wizard father and my muggle mother separated and I was left there when she died shortly after giving birth to me."

Armando nodded sympathetically, then said to Wilkins, "Please be discreet when you send for the boy so as not to cause trouble with his guardian."

Wilkins nodded. "Of course." He looked back to Tom. "How old are you, Tom?"

"Eleven, sir. Twelve in December."

Armando interjected when he saw Wilkins frown again and guessed why that would be. "The boy had not been made aware that there were laws against underage magic, though he did realize muggles needed to be kept ignorant of magic. He has been coming here, as the only magical community he knew of, to try practicing out of the way because he was concerned he would not be prepared for school. I've made him aware of the law and I think from what I've witnessed of young Tom, that he will follow it now that he knows. As he caused no harm to anyone during his practicing, and used very minor charms and jinxes to defend himself, my daughter, and her familiar, I should think that being made aware of that restriction against underage magic unless his life is once more in question should be sufficient?"

Wilkins looked back over to the boy, expression considering the matter. "What spells did you use today, Tom?"

"I was practicing bluebell flames and smokescreens before they showed up," Tom said nervously, gaze going between the two older wizards in front of him. "I used Disarming Spells first, but when the older cousin started sending cutting hexes at me, I used a few Severing Charms on him. Then I had to use Disarming spells and Knockback Jinxes a couple more times, until they decided to stop attacking and leave. I also cast two _Spongify_ Charms on the wall and ground over there, before I did the first Disarming spells, because Amaryllis had been tossed back by the jinx and was going to slam into the wall."

Wilkins raised an eyebrow, expression mildly impressed, but he only said, "I'll need to check your wand to confirm your statement. Hand it over, if you will."

Tom reached into his pocket and withdrew the wand. He handed it over to the Auror without making a fuss.

" _Prior Incantato!_ " Wilkins commanded as he touched the tip of his wand to Tom's. Flashes of ethereal light, a pale reflection of the spells, appeared. The spells the young wizard described could be seen, then they reached a point where the boy was clearly practicing the smokescreen spells he had admitted to, as nearly a dozen appeared before Wilkins decided he had checked far back enough and ended the recalling spell. He held the wand back out to Tom. "Thank you, son, for cooperating."

The boy nodded as he took back his wand. "Of course, sir."

Wilkins looked at Amaryllis. "And you, little miss, can confirm this young man only cast these spells after you had already been attacked by the group?"

Amaryllis nodded and said, voice a bit stronger with her pain being numbed, though her breathing was still somewhat labored because not being able to feel the pain didn't mean the damage hadn't been done, "Yes, sir, I can. He was only, trying to help me. He even asked them, to leave after the first time, he disarmed them. They went for their wands, again, so he had to, use the spells again."

Wilkins gave a nod then looked over to Armando. "Well, Headmaster, now that that formality is out of the way and we can confirm the boy's story, I think you're quite right that making the boy aware of the restriction is all the response needed in regards to his actions here. No need to get the Wizengamot involved as far as he's concerned."

Tom let out a heavy sigh of relief, shoulders slumping as tension left them. "Thank you, sir."

"Yes, thank you, Wilkins," Armando said with a small smile.

"Of course." The Auror turned his gaze to Tom now. "How long have you had your wand and been practicing, lad?"

"I bought my wand and books almost four weeks ago," Tom said, expression faintly confused. "I've been practicing a couple times a week when I come to pick up more school supplies. I can only carry just so much back with me as I have to travel back the muggle way."

Wilkins' eyebrow raised again. "Did you figure out the bluebell flames and smokescreen?"

"The bluebell flames, yes. I did produce those today. The smokescreen I'll need more work on. It's still staying condensed."

Wilkins nodded and smirked. "Well then. While I can understand the desire to practice as much as you can, Tom, I'd not worry too much about being unprepared for school just because you've been raised around muggles." The boy looked up at him questioningly. "Most first years would spend the entire school year trying to learn some of the spells you cast today, and might not be able to get them all by the time end of year exams come around. Never mind hold their own in a duel against three other wizards, two of whom, if I am correct in my guess to who they are, are a few years older than them, even if they had the help of a hawk and a snake. Not to mention keep Miss Dippet from worse harm with a quick improvisation of something so simple as the Softening Charm. You're going to do just fine at Hogwarts, so keep to reading your books and save the wand work for the classrooms so you'll have something to do while sitting there."

Tom smiled at the praise and nodded. "Thank you, sir, I will."

Wilkins nodded again. "Good lad. And consider joining the Dueling Club when you get in your second year if you're still learning spells so quickly. You'll be paired against opponents gauged to be at your level. Might help keep you challenged and is good practice. I know it kept me out of trouble when I was at Hogwarts." He gave a conspiratorial wink. "And who knows, maybe I'll be seeing you in seven years for Auror training if you keep it up."

Tom nodded again and said more enthusiastically, "I'll keep that in mind come next year. Thank you again, sir."

Wilkins' gaze went back to Armando. "Are you bringing your daughter home to heal the fractures? Or do you think she needs a trip to Mungo's?"

"For something this small, I can take care of her," Armando said soberly. "She'll be happier recovering in an environment she knows."

"Sounds like you have this covered then. You're at your manor right now?"

"For the time being. We'll be going back to Hogwarts in a week or so. I have some things to see to before the school year begins."

"I'll round up the shopping bags you left behind, and the things she left at the vendor's when she was robbed, and can have them waiting at the office within the next hour if you'd like to send one of your elves for them."

"Thank you, Wilkins," Armando said with a grateful nod.

"Of course, Headmaster." Wilkins looked over to the young wizard and asked in good humor, "And you, little hero. Where precisely are you going to be off to?"

Tom frowned and said abashedly, "Wool's Orphanage, sir. Here in London."

Wilkins nodded contemplatively and looked over to his partner. "Blishwick, you done over there yet?"

"Two more eggs left," Blishwick replied. "Trying not to shake the eggs up and kill the little blighters."

"Alright. Tom?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you know where the Auror outpost on Martial Alley is?"

"Yes, sir," Tom said with a confused expression.

"We should have the boys rounded up within the next few hours, given the state it sounds like they're in. Why don't you finish up your school shopping and then make your way over to our office around five o'clock. When you've confirmed we have the right attackers, we'll get you some dinner and then apparate you back to save you the trouble of trying to haul things back and forth."

"Thank you, sir, but you don't need to go through the trouble on my behalf," Tom said with an embarrassed blush rising to his cheeks.

"Nonsense," Wilkins said matter-of-fact. "It'd save us the trouble of having to bring you in on another day and raising questions with your guardian; and as we'd be interfering with your dinner time, it's no trouble to make up for that. And a wizard your age shouldn't have to be traveling the length of muggle London so frequently just to get all your school supplies in order. It's not safe, especially with muggle London's current state of affairs. Even if you're quick with your wand, all it would take is one muggle catching you off guard and then you're not on the Express come September."

"If you insist, sir," Tom agreed reluctantly, still frowning.

Wilkins nodded. "I do."

Armando had conjured a large stretcher, pillow and blanket for Amaryllis, set her merlin on the end of it, and was now coming back over to the children. "Thank you again, young man, for your quick thinking and aiding my daughter. I will be looking forward to seeing you at Hogwarts in September and expect to hear great things about your class progress."

Tom nodded. "Like I said, Headmaster, I only did what I felt was right. I look forward to being at Hogwarts in September, so thank you."

"Amaryllis, my dear, I'm going to levitate you onto the stretcher," Armando said. "Try not to stiffen up and risk hurting your ribs further."

"Yes, father," Amaryllis said. She glanced back up at her rescuer. "Thank you again, Tom. I'll see you at Hogwarts."

Tom nodded again, giving a small smile. "Yeah, I'm sure we'll run into each other again."

Armando carefully levitated his daughter onto the waiting stretcher and tucked the blanket around her. Zepher immediately waddled along the side and onto her pillow, then curled up by her head with his face against the side of hers. Amaryllis nudged her face to his and the hawk gave a concerned chirp and nudged her back.

Tom got to his feet and noticed the slender pale wand that had been hiding under his leg. "Oh, one moment, sir!" He quickly grabbed the rose-engraved wand and brought it over. "She dropped her wand when she got dizzy."

Armando took the wand with a nod. "Thank you again, Tom." He tucked the wand into his pocket. He looked to Amaryllis. "I know you don't care for side-along apparition, my dear, but there's a designated apparition spot just around the corner from here. We'd need to go a fair distance through the crowds to get to any of the Floo spots."

Amaryllis grimaced but nodded. "My head is already spinning and pounding, I doubt even apparition would make things worse at this point."

Armando nodded and said to Wilkins, "I'll have Landey and Zabby stop by the office in a few hours to pick up our bags."

"Sounds good. Take care, Headmaster."

Armando pointed his wand at the stretcher and a small flick caused the legs to fold up at the base to levitate above the ground. Careful to keep the stretcher even, he led it out of the alleyway. They just needed to go past this building on the corner of Diagon and Knockturn, Carrow's Cards if memory served him correctly, and then the apparition point was right there. He saw as they turned onto Diagon Alley that there was a half a dozen or so people on the sidewalk between them and their destination, and he said in an authoritative voice, "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but I need to make it through here."

Startled gazes darted to the elderly wizard, but upon noting the girl on the stretcher, the witches and wizards quickly moved out of the way. Armando gave them a small nod of gratitude and continued on to the apparition point without giving explanation, inwardly cringing because he knew that this was also going to be gossiped about.

He stepped to the platform between Carrow's and Florean's Ice-cream Shoppe and placed his hands on the stretcher holding his daughter and her merlin. This would be a little trickier because of the stretcher, but he could manage it. Amaryllis' eyes were already closed, the girl concentrating on her breathing. "We're about to apparate, Amaryllis. We'll be home in just a few seconds and then we'll be able to get you the potions needed to mend your ribs. You'll be good as new by morning."

Amaryllis nodded, eyes still closed, and wrapped an arm around Zephyr. She murmured to the bird, telling him to stay still.

Armando concentrated on their destination, and a few seconds later they were wrapped in his magic and being pulled home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

After the Dippets had left the alleyway, Auror Wilkins looked over to Tom. "Alright, son. Go finish up your shopping and we'll see you back at the office when you're done. I trust we won't have to come looking for you."

Tom gave a dutiful nod. "No, sir. I'll see you then."

"Good lad," Wilkins said. When Tom went to grab his bags of clothes, he added, "Don't worry about those. I can bring them back to the office so you'll have a few less bags to carry around in the meantime."

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Tom kept his tone polite, with a hint of gratitude, but wondered to himself if the offer was meant to be truly solicitous, or if it was to guarantee that he'd come to the Auror's office as instructed. He decided that it was likely the former, as he had, after all, been found to be innocent of any wrong doing and was only needed to identify the attackers.

As Tom was leaving the alley, he saw the Auror start picking up the wands that had been left abandoned by the other boys. He headed up towards Diagon Alley as the Dippets had. It would have been quicker for him to get to Practic Alley by following Knockturn to Martial, which led to Practic; but the White Wyvern was that way and he knew the boys' fathers were frequently there. Which meant that they had likely run there, and possibly running into them before the Aurors picked them up could be hazardous to his health. He was much safer taking the roundabout way to Practic Alley. Besides, Potage's Cauldrons was in Diagon Alley, as was Slug and Jigger's, and he did need to visit both. Might as well get that done while he was over this way, and he could use his cauldron to hold some of his school supplies.

Tom turned right onto Diagon Alley and passed by a group of witches and wizards, who were gossiping about having just seen Headmaster Dippet coming through with an injured young witch, whom they guessed to be his daughter that they heard he was shopping with today. The young wizard shook his head as he made his way to Potage's. The rumor mill was already starting for this latest news. Didn't they have anything better to be doing with their time?

His own thoughts turned to the events in the alley, evaluating the outcome. He'd say he did fairly well. The Headmaster seemed quite grateful and he had been found innocent in any wrong doing. His lie about not knowing the rules on underage magic had been believed, as he had hoped, and he wasn't in any trouble for fighting with the boys. He had, in fact, been called a hero by the Auror, even if in partial jest.

While the Auror didn't seem to recognize him, Tom had recognized the Auror and his partner from a few hours earlier during lunch. He had been the man gossiping with the witch about the Dippets. Thankfully, Auror Wilkins had turned out to fall into a better category Tom had initially pegged him to be in. Despite his condescending comments during lunch, he was apparently one of the pure bloods who may strongly dislike muggle-borns, but he would treat a half-blood who showed their worth with a fair disposition. At least the Auror had treated him like a proper wizard and showed the concern for his welfare in a muggle environment. And while he hoped to not have any future run-ins with Aurors, that he had made a good impression on Wilkins was never a bad thing. One could never know when having a friendly acquaintance might come in handy in a tight spot.

And while Tom regretted that he had to finish off his school shopping today and not have an excuse to return this summer, the fight had ruined the privacy of his practice spot anyway and he wouldn't be able to continue his act of ignorance on underage magic. He was also a bit surprised, and a great deal more vindicated, to have received praise for his skills and find out from an informed source that his spellcasting abilities were remarkably good for his age. He hadn't known about the Dueling Club, but he would truly keep that in mind for his second year so he could get even more practice in.

Tom reached Potage's and quickly found the cauldron his equipment list had specified. Though he would usually stop and talk with a shop owner to get in their good graces and maybe pick up some useful information, he didn't want to keep the Aurors waiting, so he paid for the cauldron with a few polite words and then left. He crossed the street and followed it all the way to the end, where Diagon intersected with Botanic and Whimsic.

There, on the corner, was Slug and Jigger's. Tom stepped in, navigated around some other students shopping with their parents, and picked up the ready-made kit for first year students. There was a stand next to that display that had various sets of glass or crystal vials, as was also required, and then a display for the various sets of scales. Slug and Jigger's was popular with the average students and the owners were savvy enough to make students' lives easier by arranging their displays to accommodate them. Tom selected a set of glass vials that looked both sturdy and practical; the more ornate glass and crystal vials were well out of his price range.

Tom didn't select a set of scales from here, however. He had noticed during his last trip to Batworthy's a few weeks ago that the old wizard had several sets of scales in his shop. He hadn't bought one that day, but he had tested some out and found that while most had sported dents and scratches, or were severely tarnished, or off kilter in the hinges, a few sets were in decent repair and only missing some weights. Batworthy had said that if he wanted to come back and purchase a set of scales after browsing around, he was welcome to take replacements from the other sets to have a whole set. After having looked at the prices of new sets at the apothecaries, Tom had decided he'd take the old man up on his offer and expend the effort to mix-and-match a full set for himself. It'd save him several sickles and give him more money for more delicate supplies that shouldn't be bought second hand.

So once he had purchased his ingredients kit and vials, Tom went across the street to Batworthy's little rundown shop, which was dimly lit and empty besides its owner. Old Batworthy was dozing behind the counter, but cracked an eye open as the bell above the door chimed with Tom's entrance.

"Eh," Batworthy groaned groggily. The rheumy eye squinted, focused on the young wizard, then closed as the old man gave a tired yawn. Despite his clear age and exhaustion, he still said in an intelligible voice, "'Ello there, young Tom. Back to look at my scales, are ya?"

"Yes, Mr. Batworthy," Tom said politely, setting his previous purchases by the counter. "How are you this afternoon?"

"Eh… Got a little caught up in viewing a small meteor shower that took place last night and now I'm trying not to fall off my stool, but otherwise I'm not so bad. How's that telescope ya bought working out for ya?"

"I've only had the opportunity to use it once, so far, however it worked beautifully during that use," Tom said as he made his way to the scales. "Thank you again for showing me how to calibrate it and exchange out the lenses."

"Oh, of course, of course. Not too many of you young folks take an interest in Astronomy, so I'm glad to encourage it when ya do." Batworthy gave another yawn and then straightened up with creaking joints. He stretched his skinny arms up, rolled his shoulder with more loud pops and cracks, then glanced over to Tom beneath his bushy grey eyebrows. "Ah, no need to rifle through those quite yet, young Tom. I thought a frugal boy like you might actually come back, so I went sorting through my stock while things were quiet. Found ya a set of brass scales with some rather nice etching around the base. Needed a few tweaks on the screw that kept the cords for the plates in place, and it needs some polishing still, but it had most of its weights with it. Found some replacements that aren't too far off from the rest, so it looks a decent set for ya."

Tom had come back to the counter as Batworthy talked. He now gave the old man a grateful nod as he said, "Thank you, Mr. Batworthy, for the kind consideration. I appreciate it."

Batworthy nodded and waved a hand dismissively as he turned and crouched down, opening a dusty cabinet behind the counter and began to search through it. "It's no trouble if it helps it get sold and out of the shop. And if it serves its purpose for ya while you're at school, all the better. Ah, why'd I put you behind that?" This last was directed at the scales in mention. After pushing aside a white box, he pulled out a small wood box. "Ah, here we are." He stood slowly, his back letting out a crack the sounded like a gunshot, and came back to the counter.

Tom saw that the box was a plain dark wood, but finely crafted despite its simplicity.

Batworthy opened up the box and inside lay the pieces of the scales. "Now, let's just show ya how to set it all up and you'll be good for school, I think," the old wizard murmured.

Tom watched as Batworthy pulled out the base and began screwing the pieces in place. Despite needing more assembly than some of the newer models, and was admittedly bearing a few small dents on the base and in need a fair bit more cleaning than the cursory rub-down Batworthy had done, Tom could tell this set of scales seemed a bit sturdier than other basic sets he had seen at the apothecaries. And along the edges of the base and plates, and twining up the pole, there was a slender line of Celtic knotwork.

Batworthy's age spotted hands were slightly shaky, but making good time of the assembly. He was praising the scales as he worked. "They don't often make scales like you anymore, do they? No, they don't. Not without asking a small fortune for you. Nowadays, seem like everyone wants those lightweight folding scales. Just not the same, if anyone asks me. You might weigh a bit more, but you're more accurate and aren't likely to suddenly tip a plate or lose a string. So long you're kept up with, you'll last generations yet."

When the scales were set up, Tom gave them an appraising look. "These are a rather nice set of scales, Mr. Batworthy. Thank you for locating them."

"Eh, it's no trouble, young Tom," Batworthy said with a small smile. "Most of my stock is junk unless someone has the time to fix it up right, but I get a few good things now and again. Think ya can put this together proper?"

Tom nodded. "It seems simple enough."

Batworthy nodded as well. "Quite right. Not much extra effort." He lifted the fitted shelf from the box and there was a selection of weights stored in the bottom compartment. "All the weights you should need are there. Tossed in a few extra ten and hundred gram weights for ya."

"Thank you, sir," Tom said with a polite smile. "How much do I owe you for this set?"

"Eh," Batworthy grunted, scratching the thinning hair on the back of his head as he eyed the scales. "Let's call it 4 sickles and 10knuts."

Tom's eyebrows rose in surprise. That wasn't much more than the sign by the broken scales stated for those in such disrepair. "Are you sure?"

"Eh, the price is near double at the apothecaries and I can't rightfully ask that for a mismatched used one, even if it is an antique," Batworthy said matter-of-fact. "And you're a repeat customer, so I don't mind giving you a little discount."

Tom nodded and said, "Thank you, then. I appreciate it."

Batworthy nodded and began disassembling the scales. "It's no trouble, young man. I hope you'll find them useful in your class."

"I'm sure I will," Tom said truthfully.

"How much more shopping you've got left before you're ready for school?"

After a few seconds thought on his dwindling list, Tom said, "I have to buy some of the winter clothes on my list, and the hide gloves, along with finding a trunk to put everything in."

Batworthy nodded, lips pursed together in thought. "Well, sounds like you're nearly done then… The second hand shops over in Practic should do ya fine for your clothes and gloves. Give me a minute, though, as it might be I have one or two trunks out back that might suit your needs well enough, if you're interested."

"I wouldn't mind giving them a look over."

Batworthy closed up the scales' box and headed to the back of his store without further conversation. Tom spent the couple minute wait recalculating the contents of his money bag, subtracting out what he had spent at Slug and Jigger's, what he'd be spending on the scales, and the approximate cost he knew he'd be spending on the rest of his clothing. He'd still have several extra sickles and some knuts because he had been so careful in how he had spent his school stipend, which was a relief. He could keep those set aside and, if he discovered he needed anything, he'd be able to purchase them when he had to come back to London for the winter holiday.

Batworthy came back out to the front of the shop, tugging two trunks behind him. He set them up and began checking them over. The first was a plain black trunk that had silver-toned joints and, as it turned out, a zippered compartment on the inside that had a tricky zipper. The fabric inside was thin in places, and it no longer had straps to hold down his belongings, but the frame was still solid and the lock on the trunk had its key and was in working order. The second trunk was a dark green that also had silver-toned joints and a working lock on it. The fabric was in better condition, and it had straps on the inside to hold things in place, but they were old fashioned toggle-clasps, as were the sewn-in pouches along the lid, and two of the clasps had obviously been replaced because they didn't match the others.

"This black one here might suit you better, now that I think about it, given it's a neutral for house colors. Might look a bit off toting around a green one if you're not in Slytherin," Batworthy said. "If you're careful with the zipper there, it should last ya 'til you're out of school. Just pack your clothes in tight around your supplies so they don't shift around on ya. The green one is a bit old fashioned, but even with the replacement pieces, it'll hold your things in place more secure."

Tom considered the matter as he glanced between the two trunks. Given his limited budget, he was more concerned with preserving his supplies as best as he could. Fashion or his trunk not matching his house colors weren't heading his priorities. He crouched down and checked the zipper on the black trunk, and found that he really didn't like the looks of it. He might be able to keep it functional for a few years, but he doubted it'd last much longer. The rest of the trunk was in good working order, though. He wasn't all that handy with a needle and thread, but he had needed to patch holes in his uniform at the orphanage on occasion and he could maybe sew in some lengths of rope to the sides and use those as straps to keep supplies in place. He turned to the green trunk and checked it over with the same care he had the first- tugging on its straps, checking the joints and wheels, trying out the lock. Despite its age and the few replacements, it seemed in very good order. It didn't have as many individual compartments for supplies, but he only had the bare basics right now anyway.

Tom glanced up to the old wizard and asked, "How much would you want for either?"

Batworthy looked between the two trunks, humming thoughtful to himself. "Eh… I could settle for 2 sickles for the black. The green would be another 8 knuts."

Tom stood and glanced between the two as well, considering the matter. He was tempted to save himself the extra knuts by buying the black trunk. Rope was easy enough to come by at the orphanage, he well knew. And he didn't know too much about the houses at Hogwarts yet, so he wasn't sure which he'd be sorted into. However, even if he got sorted into a house that wasn't Slytherin, he didn't really care if his trunk wasn't the color of his house. It's not like he was going to be lugging it to all his classes. The idea of having a sturdier trunk was a strong pull in its favor. And even if it was an old fashioned design, it almost had its own charm. Tom was of the opinion he rather liked the combination of the green and silver.

"You know, I think I'll take the green one," Tom said finally.

"Eh, if that's what ya want, young man, that's what I'll sell ya. Isn't a bad looking trunk to have." Batworthy handed the key to the green trunk to Tom and pocketed the key for the black, then went around the counter to the register. "So that's 4 and 10 for the scales and 2 and 8 for the trunk; which brings us to… 6 sickles and 18 knuts today."

Tom didn't have that many knuts in his bag at the moment, so he pulled out seven sickles and handed them over. Batworthy tossed them into the register, pulled out the 11 knuts that was Tom's change, and handed it over with a nod. "There you are. Hopefully you'll get some solid use out of them."

"I think so," Tom agreed, pocketing the change. He placed his cauldron, which held his potion supplies, in the bottom of his trunk, and the scales' box on the side. As an afterthought, he pulled out the fragile glass vials from the cauldron and put that package in one of the toggled compartments so they'd have less jostling around. There now, he thought as he closed up the trunk. His clothes and books would fill in most of the rest of the main space and he'd be all set for school. It'd also keep the matron from seeing all his supplies when he got back to the orphanage and asking why in the world he needed a cauldron if she had caught a peek of it.

"Have a good day, Tom," Batworthy said, eyes already dropping closed as he propped his chin on his hand.

"You as well, Mr. Batworthy," Tom said, wheeling his trunk out of the store.

Tom headed towards Botanic Alley at the intersection between Botanic, Whimsic, and Diagon. Whimsic Alley was where the high-end boutiques and specialty stores were, along with the Theater Hall, a posh apartment building for witches and wizards of means who wanted to live in London, and a night club that had opened up shortly after the Great War had ended.

Tom spared a glance in the direction of that ritzy stretch of the wizarding community. He didn't know anyone who lived there, nor did he have the funds to shop there. He certainly didn't dress like someone who had the funds to shop there. He would likely be subjected to quiet humiliating comments and looks until he went running back down this way… Someday, though. Someday, he'd get himself a suite at Olympic Heights to live in, and he'd be seeing the renowned plays and operas at The Siren's Song. He didn't know how to dance, nor did he care to learn, but he'd maybe even grace Midnight Magic with his presence, leading an entourage of his friends acquired at Hogwarts and making deals over expensive cocktails.

Such thoughts of his aspirations to fame and fortune followed the young wizard to Pumpkins R Us, located halfway down Botanic Alley. They carried a large selection of produce in the front of the store, and then gardening supplies could be found in the back. Because the store was popular with the every-day wizard and witch, getting his needed gloves here would be far cheaper than buying them from the apothecary, and certainly cheaper than one of the clothing stores that sold designer gardening gloves for those with the money. And from what he understood, it wasn't worth saving a little money to buy used gloves that could have weak spots and cause damage to his hands. He had saved enough money as it was to be able to buy new ones.

2 sickles and 4knuts later, Tom had a serviceable pair of dragon hide gloves to add to his inventory in his trunk. And following Botanic Alley down to Practic Alley, he found the second hand clothing shop above Splinter and Kreek's, where several more sickles and knuts were spent to secure a warm winter cloak, boots, hat, gloves and scarf.

Tom was just dragging his trunk down the stairs from the store when he heard the large clock in Carkitt Market strike five. The local Auror's Office was at the intersection of Practic and Martial Alley, only a few minute walk away. Good, he'd be on time for meeting with Auror Wilkins.

Tom entered the Auror's Office from the Practic Alley entrance, and it was a very good thing he did. As soon as he walked in, he spotted across the quiet lobby, by the Martial Alley entrance, the gangly, red-nosed father of the thief that had robbed the Headmaster's daughter. The drunken wizard was being quietly berated by an extremely tall, beefy man dressed in fine robes. Despite their obvious differences in appearance, they bore a similar facial structure with dark hair and eyes that signaled them to be related. The latter man had a nearly-murderous glint to his dark eyes, while the former had his head hung in shame as he took the verbal abuse. Likely, the sober one was the elder brother, in charge of whatever family business they had.

None of the boys involved, nor other parents, were anywhere to be seen at the moment. If Tom had to guess, he'd say that the Mulciber cousins were likely being held somewhere in the back offices, and the other boys, with their more serious injuries, were still at St. Mungo's with their parents.

Tom closed the door as quietly as he could behind himself and, still keeping one eye on the other two wizards, made his way to the receptionist desk in the middle.

"Can I help you, young man?" the receptionist asked, giving him a quick, measuring glance before turning her attention back to the papers in front of her.

Tom stiffened as he saw from the corner of his eye that the conversation between the wizards come to a halt with the receptionist's greeting, gazes going to him. Tom turned his attention to the receptionist, reminded himself that he had done nothing wrong and should, theoretically, be safe while in the Auror's Office. He said with as level of a voice as he could, "Yes. Please tell Auror Wilkins that Tom Riddle is here as requested."

The receptionist nodded, scribbled a bit of writing onto a note, and a flick of her wand caused it to fold itself up into a paper airplane and go flying back towards the offices. "Have a seat. He'll be with you shortly."

Tom was acutely aware of the unfriendly attention following him as he went to sit as far from the other wizards as he could. The drunken wizard had started muttering in dangerous tones to the other as soon as he said he was there to speak with Auror Wilkins, and they must have connected the dots enough to realize he was there in conjunction with the incident with their sons. Tom pointedly ignored the whispering duo, instead turning his attention inward to try figuring out why the smokescreen spell was giving him such difficulty in fully pulling off.

Before he could get far into his contemplations, however, he heard, "Tom, good to see you're a timely lad." Tom looked over to the hallway behind the receptionist desk and saw Auror Wilkins standing there, a serious expression on his face as he glanced to the two older wizards and then back to the younger. "If you would follow me, please."

Tom nodded, grabbed the handle of his trunk, and followed Auror Wilkins down the bare hallway, stepping into a small room indicated by the Auror. The room had a small, rectangular table with two chairs on one of the longer sides. On one of the chairs sat his bags from earlier shopping. There was a pitcher of water and a glass on the table. And that was all the room contained.

"Have a seat, son," Auror Wilkins said, not unkindly, gesturing to the free chair.

Tom set his trunk next to the chair that bore his bags and then sat down on the other. He did his best not to fidget in the chair, feeling uncomfortable in the Spartan holding room and having to remind himself he wasn't the one in trouble.

"In a moment, I'm going to cast a charm on that wall," Auror Wilkins said, pointing to the wall the chairs faced. "We have two of the boys we suspect were your attackers, from the description you gave, in the next room. You'll be able to see and hear them, but they can't see or hear you. I want you to tell me if we have the right boys. If we don't, or you're not sure, let me know. Easy enough?"

Tom nodded once. Keeping his tone nervous, though now part of the tremor in his voice was due to his excitement at the prospect of seeing a new piece of magic, he said, "Yes, sir."

Wilkins nodded and pointed his wand at the room. He made a spiral motion, that Tom paid careful attention to, and said, "Obscuro Speculo Fenestram."

The whitewashed brick wall began to shimmer, as though emitting waves of heat and distorting the air, though no heat could be felt. In the course of a few seconds, the wall became perfectly flat, and then seemed to lose opacity, before turning into a gigantic pane of glass. The shimmer disappeared once the transformation was done, but Wilkins kept his wand pointed at the wall, which made Tom think that he needed to concentrate on the spell for it to remain in place.

On the other side of the wall-window, there were the two boys who looked alike, sitting with sullen expressions on their faces, arms wrapped in bandages and resting on the table before them. An older wizard with sandy blonde hair and a stern face, dressed in fancy dress robes, was sitting to one side of them, rifling through papers in front of him.

"Are they part of the group who attacked Miss Dippet and yourself earlier this afternoon, Tom?" Wilkins asked.

Tom nodded immediately, then said, "Yes, sir, they are."

"Which did what?"

"The one on the left, he was the one that stole Miss Dippet's purse. He also cut up her familiar when Zephyr tried to retrieve it, and shot a spell at her when they first entered the alley, but it missed. The one on the right, he was shooting spells at the hawk at first, but lost his wand when Zephyr clawed him. While I was disarming the other one and the tall, dark haired boy that was with them, he got his wand back and started shooting some sort of cutting hex at me that sliced through the railing of the fire escape I was on. He helped the tall, dark haired one, Antonin, get out of the alley after the snake bit him, and told the one on the left to give back the stolen money before they left."

Wilkins nodded and swirled his wand in the opposite direction. The wall shimmered again and returned back to its previous bare state. "Very good. Thank you, Tom. My partner is at Saint Mungo's, but due back any minute. He'll have photos of the two boys we believe to be their accomplices, especially given their injuries, so I need you to wait here for a short while to confirm we have the right boys. Once we have your confirming identification, we can see about getting you dinner and back home."

"I'm not in any particular rush, but thank you, sir," Tom said.

Wilkins gave a small smile. "Would you like some tea, possibly some biscuits, to tide you over until dinner?"

"No, thank you, sir. I'm alright for now."

Wilkins nodded. He pulled a moderately sized leather-bound book, worn at the edges, out of a pocket of his robes. "This should help keep you occupied during the wait. I need to go speak with the boys' fathers and attorney."

Tom gave a nod and accepted the book. The cover was unadorned except for the plain stamped words, _Dueling Dynamics: A Beginner's Guide for a Most Respected and Ancient Art._

To Tom's questioning glance, Wilkins said, "Had my elf bring it from home. Every young wizard should give it a read, in my opinion. It's a bit of a read for a first year, but I think you'll work your way through it. It's mostly theory and technique suggestions, but there's a few helpful charms and hexes at the end of it. I expect that you'll save what you learn for Dueling Club or life-threatening circumstances."

"Thank you, sir," Tom said, fingers already itching to flip open the book and begin reading. "May I ask, why are you giving me this, instead of saving it should you have a son someday?"

Wilkins gaze followed Tom's to the plain gold band on his left hand. He cleared his throat and then said impassively, "My wife died in a work related accident, two years ago this autumn. We didn't have any children. I don't plan on remarrying, my work was my second wife anyway, and my brothers can pass their copies on to their sons. I get the feeling it'd serve you better than my bookshelf, if today served as any indication."

Tom bowed his head respectfully as he said, "I'm sorry to hear about your wife, sir. And thank you for the thought. I'm sure it'll prove most interesting."

Wilkins gave a brief smile. "Stay here, lad, and we'll have you on your way out shortly enough." Without waiting for further conversation, the Auror turned on a heel and left the room.

Now alone, Tom eagerly opened up the dueling manual and began reading the introduction by an apparently famous dueler named Poyne Yard from the 1800s.


	10. Chapter 10 - For real this time

**Chapter 10**

Tom had finished reading the preface and introductory chapter when the door to the room he was in opened. Aurors Wilkins and Blishwick came in, Wilkins looked rather more annoyed than before, and Blishwick was flipping through the papers in hand.

"Tom, you remember my partner, Auror Blishwick," Wilkins said perfunctory. "We have those photographs for you to take a look at."

"Of course, sir," Tom said with a nod.

Blishwick pulled two black and whites out of the folders and slid them across the table. "Do you recognize either of these boys, son?"

Tom looked down at the photos and his jaw slackened. The photo of the brute, Fenrir, showed him silently blubbering, his forehead and cheeks sporting half a dozen long cuts that oozed blood down into his eyes and chin. And Antonin's greasy face was near waxen from his poisoning, a bruise along the side of his face from being disarmed and hitting the pavement showing all the clearer because of the pallor, the older boy trembling in a hospital bed with sweat trickling down both sides of his face. The animals had really done a number on the two of them.

Blishwick cleared his throat, clearly waiting for an answer. Tom swallowed nervously, then nodded. He pointed to Antonin, "That one, Antonin, was with the other two during the fight. He's the one that hit Amaryllis with the force spell that cracked her ribs. He seemed to be leading the group. He got bit by a snake in the alley. That one," he said pointing to the other picture, "I recognize from seeing him around with the others, but he wasn't in the alley with us. Antonin mentioned Fenrir got scratched up by Amaryllis' bird while it was trying to defend her. I heard him screaming before they reached the alley, after there had been a lot of loud firecracker like noises and her screaming."

"Thank you, Tom," Wilkins said with a nod. He looked to his partner. "I believe that's all we need from the boy?"

Blishwick nodded. "I'll bring the pictures by Dippet Manor so the girl can confirm the identifications, but this should be open and shut."

Wilkins' frown deepened and he muttered, "We'll see. Jenks is a slippery bastard and Mulciber is already railing about his boy and nephew being arrested."

"Don't do the crime if you can't do the time," Blishwick said with equal obvious disdain for the people in mention.

Wilkins nodded in agreement and turned his attention back to Tom. "Alright, lad. I have a few papers to file and arrests to make, then I'll be done here. We'll get you some dinner and then back to your residence so you can get some rest."

"Thank you, sir," Tom said with gratitude.

"Are you alright here, or have you changed your mind about a snack or some tea?"

"I'm fine, but thank you, sir," Tom said, unable to keep himself from fidgeting under the auror's gaze. The older wizard seemed a bit concerned as his gaze scanned him. Apparently, even with the little bit of weight he had gained thanks to Mr Fowl's cooking, the auror could obviously tell the orphan was a little underfed and was trying to get him to eat more while he could. Tom was only starting to feel a little hungry, though, as his lunch had quite filled him up. He wished it wasn't so painfully obvious that he was living in less than ideal circumstances. He didn't like being pitied, no matter how well intentioned or if there was respect mixed in.

Apparently the auror realized he had made the child uncomfortable with the offer, as he nodded once and then turned to his partner with a sigh. "Ready to enflame a few starched robes?"

Blishwick chuckled. "Always ready for that."

The two aurors left Tom to puzzle his way through the dueling book written in antiquated English. Mr. Yard was a bit long winded, but the first chapter was filled with interesting tid bits on the history of dueling throughout the last two millennia, interspersed with insight as to how those events played into customs still observed in more modern duels.

An hour or so later, Auror Wilkins returned to fetch Tom for dinner. The boys, their fathers, and the attorney were nowhere to be seen. Tom followed the older wizard out of the outpost and back towards Carkitt Market, his belongings floating behind them. Wilkins nodded to a few other people that hailed him, but didn't stop to talk, seemingly caught up in his own thoughts.

On their way, not far from the Auror's office, Tom noticed a larger, two story building called, "Dippet's Defense Outpost". If memory served correctly, the owner was his headmaster's great-great-grand nephew, who had also spent some time as an Auror. Alexandro Dippet was considered to be one of the top contenders for inheriting the Dippet vault; that is, before Armando had gotten himself a daughter. Tom wondered how that distant Dippet was feeling about that sudden displacement.

When they reached the archway that spilled out into the Market, Auror Wilkins asked, "Any foods that don't agree with you, son?"

Tom shook his head. "None that I know of, sir."

Wilkins nodded with a small smile. "After the day I've had, I'm fancying the thought of a steak for dinner. Sound agreeable to you?"

Tom nodded and said honestly, "That sounds delicious. Thank you, sir."

Wilkins led him to a bustling restaurant to the south-west side of the market, nearby the archway they had entered through. The awning declared it o be "Madame Smith's Succulent Steaks", and the smell coming from the steakhouse was indeed succulent. Tom shifted uncomfortably, he recognized the restaurant and knew that the meals here were outside his usual price range. He had no choice, however, but to follow Auror Wilkins inside, past a large group of early-twenties witches and wizards waiting to be seated. Wilkins didn't bother glancing at the group, instead flipping on a charming smile and flirting with the waitress he was clearly familiar with, asking if she might be able to find a seat for him and his guest. The pretty raven haired waitress blushed and, between flirtations, said she could find a table for the duo. Tom watched with minor interest, surprised that the auror was flirting with the waitress, though he had stated earlier he had no intentions of finding himself a new wife. Apparently he really wanted a timely steak if he was willing to skip the lines and use his charms on the woman to get them seated quickly.

In no time at all, they were zigzagging through the crowd and to a highly polished corner booth in the back of the restaurant. Wilkins asked for his usual and ordered a butterbeer for Tom. While they waited on drinks, Wilkins made a few brief suggestions on meal choices, but told Tom he was free to order whatever appealed to him. Wilkins' suggestion of the prime steak and beans with grilled vegetables and mushrooms sounded immensely appeasing and, ignoring the price listed next to the entry, gave his order when the waitress returned. Wilkins gave an approving nod and ordered the same, asking for an extra side of vegetables for himself and the option of melted cheese on them.

Once the waitress left, Wilkins gave a relieved sigh, stretched out, cracking his knuckles over his head. Giving another relieved sigh, the Auror's expression became more relaxed and he took a long swig of his fire whiskey. "Ah…" Wilkins said with a satisfied grin, "let me tell you, lad. When you're older, you're going to find there's nothing like a cold drink and a hot steak to launch your weekend off right."

Tom smiled politely back and nodded once, then took a small sip of his first butterbeer. It was fizzy like pop, but smoother and creamier. He wasn't much for sweets, but the butter beer had enough underlying bite to it to make it enjoyable. "Thank you, sir. This is indeed a nice treat for the weekend."

The auror nodded pleasantly and took a smaller sip of his own drink. "It's no trouble, Tom, and the least that can be done after you rescued Miss Dippet and had your afternoon interrupted. That really was some quick thinking and wand work on your part."

Tom bowed his head modestly, saying, "Thank you, sir. I just let my instincts decide what the right responses were."

"Well, you've certainly got proper instincts, son," Wilkins said. "How are you enjoying the book so far? I know the language is a bit rambling, Yard liked to hear and read himself go on, but he knew his stuff."

Tom took another small sip of his butterbeer and then said, "I think it's a fascinating read, sir, but I'm not sure how the formalized rules he speaks of in the first chapter of the book would be much use in practice."

"How so?" Wilkins asked neutrally, pulling a complementary loaf of bread from the platter in the center of table, ripping it in half and offering a piece of the faintly steaming bread to the younger wizard.

Tom accepted it, had a bite, then said, "Well, for instance, what happened today. Those boys weren't following the rules of a duel. They had ganged up on a single non-combatant, and then I entered more by surprise, not announcing my presence properly. Everything went against rules of a duel."

Wilkins nodded. "And that's partially why those boys lost, they had no discipline." To Tom's curious gaze, he said. "In the field, no, there's not going to be a perfect adherence to dueling rules. But take my partner and I. Blishwick and I know each other's strengths and weaknesses in dueling and we know how to shift back and forth between us, controlling the flow of a fight and breaking up less disciplined opponents we need arrest so we can force them into a proper one on one duel. Once we've done so, and knowing the other is watching our back, we inevitably win because we're now in familiar territory and can disable our opponents.

"From the sounds of things, the little gang you had to deal with this afternoon were shooting off spells at their own discretions, not communicating very well with one another and getting themselves picked off one by one, yes?"

"Yes," Tom agreed after a few seconds. "They came rushing into the alley and didn't even see me there. Antonin was too busy yelling at Amaryllis, the cousins were trying to fend off the hawk."

"If they had any proper discipline, a hawk would hardly be a distraction, and the both of you that had been cornered wouldn't have been walking out of that alley unaided," Wilkins said matter-of-factly. "In a duel, whether formal or on the streets, you need to be aware of your surroundings so you can use them to your advantage and be the one to unarm your opponents one after another, regardless of outside influences. You assign yourself and those with you equal shares of the tasks to keep guarded, or manufacture more accommodating situations if you're outnumbered and can't properly keep aware on your own. You kept focused, paid attention to the surroundings, so you were able to minimize damage taken and pick off your opponents strategically. Learning the ins and outs of proper dueling will sharpen your focus, teach you more adaptability and staying on your toes, which are skills that carry over to street fighting and survival."

Tom nodded his understanding and ate a few more bites of his bread, then asked the question he wanted answered. "Why are you offering all the helpful insight, sir? Not that I don't appreciate it, because I do, but why bother encouraging me to learn when I haven't even started my first year at Hogwarts?"

Wilkins raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Maybe it's because I don't like seeing talent go to waste, and if I know delinquents any, you'll be needing to stay on your toes this year to keep out of the hospital wing."

"Maybe?" Tom asked.

Wilkins shrugged and said frankly, "Maybe. Or maybe it's also that I can appreciate a young wizard acting like a proper wizard, no matter your upbringing, and I'd like to see that stay with you, despite whatever trouble you might find coming your way if their damaged egos seek a bit of childish revenge."

Tom stared at the wizard, surprised by his words. He had theorized Wilkins was in a better category than he had initially thought the older wizard to be in, but he didn't expect such a blunt statement.

Wilkins obviously noticed his surprise because an eyebrow raised archly as he took a sip of his fire whiskey. Setting it down, he said with thinly veiled amusement, "Not what you expected, hm? Well, I know overhearing a bit of sarcastic commentary over a lunch can set an opinion, but it's not as though those few minutes were a fair depiction of character."

Tom felt his ears go red with mortified embarrassment, the first time he could ever remember such an event happening. After a few seconds gaping at the auror, he said, "You… You noticed me at lunch?!"

"Do you think I've survived this long as an auror by being unaware of my surroundings?" Wilkins chuckled and shook his head, following it with a tutting noise. "I regularly frequent the Market for lunch, and an unattended child suddenly falling into the routine of grabbing the same lunch at Fowl's at the same time each day, three times a week, did register as a change in the norm, even if only to keep an eye on you in the market so nothing befell you during my rounds."

Tom blinked once in surprise, trying to keep his reactions moderated. "So… Did you mean what you said at lunch? Or what you're saying now?"

"Both," Wilkins stated.

"Both?" Tom asked with confusion, not sure how both could be true.

Wilkins leaned forward and, after a moment's pause, Tom mimicked him. He said in a lower, more serious voice, "Here's something important for you to learn, lad. People aren't good or evil, black or white. We all have complicated views. Most of us fall somewhere in the middle. I, like many of old houses, don't much like muggles after all the trouble they've caused over the course of history, nor all the extreme lengths we have to go to to hide from them. But I don't hate them. I don't hate mudblood wizards and witches." The auror didn't hesitate to use the slur, but he didn't say it with the same caustic tone many used. "I don't like how many of them try to barge in and change everything to fit into their muggle-raised views. I don't like how disrespectful they are of wizarding traditions. I don't like how they've ruined houses by marrying into them and pissing away fortunes trying to show they're more wizard than pureblood wizards. But…"

He held up a finger, pointing it at Tom. "But that doesn't mean I dislike the whole lot of muggleborns and half bloods. There's some who genuinely want to integrate with us and don't make fools of themselves. And we need those ones if we don't want to die off from bloodlines getting too intercrossed. My grandmother on my father's side was muggleborn, and one of my great, great grandfathers on my mother's side was a halfblood. It's a reality of wizarding existence. Contrary to what some say, there's not truly, one hundred percent pure lines outside a few groups of backwater bumpkins that marry their own kin. And believe me, you don't want to see what those are like."

Wilkins shook his head again with a grimace of distaste, leaned back in his seat and downed the last of his fire whiskey. "No, lad, I don't mind your sort. You're clearly taking the gumption to integrate and be a proper wizard. And we need young wizards willing to continue acting with dignity, instead of acting like spoiled brats resting on their laurels and names. Getting complacent is how we end up with trouble brewing like the main land is having right now. We're better than that."

Tom thought of all the rumors circulating about the growing dark wizards in Europe and shuddered. He was a half blood, and that put him as sub human to the likes of Grindlewald. "Do you think the trouble with Grindlewald will stay over there?"

Wilkins shrugged again and said as he signaled to the waitress that he wanted a refill of his drink, "We can hope so, lad, but it doesn't hurt to remain wary and proactive. We may have relative safety on this little island of ours, but there's plenty with ties to the rest of Europe and that can open the door for conflicts to come creeping on over. Whatever our differences over here, we still have to protect our own."

The waitress came over with a fresh glass. "Here you are, Arturo. Dinner will be up in just a few minutes."

"Thank you, doll," Wilkins said with a return of his charming smile.

After a few more flirtatious exchanged, the waitress had to attend to other customers calling for her attention.

The auror raised his new glass to the younger wizard, "Whether it's foreign enemies when you're older, or other student wizards who do their fathers disservice by acting foolishly, keep your guard up and listen to your instincts and you'll secure yourself a long, prosperous future."

Tom lifted his glass to the older wizard, "Thank you, sir, for the vote of confidence."

Their steaks were brought out and dinner was spent discussing basic points of dueling, Wilkins giving advice and examples of how techniques could be employed for a younger student of the martial aspects of magic.

Tom realized halfway through dinner that the answer to why Wilkins was being so solicitous might have been something much simpler than the answers previously given- the widowed, childless auror seemed lonely, in no hurry to rush to the end of dinner, and seemed to be enjoying having an attentive audience to pass some wisdom off to. The younger wizard with 'good instincts for dueling' must have made a welcome diversion from his usual routine.

Tom was more than happy to delay his return to the orphanage and let his interest in the topics show, allowing him to glean bits of knowledge from his elder. The sun was setting when dinner was finally finished and paid for, and Wilkins had a small stack of fire whiskey glasses forming a pyramid on the corner of their table. To Tom's surprise, the auror was still perfectly stable on his feet and his steps weren't the least faltering as he led them back outside.

"Wool's is that huge, fenced in brick building near the old fire station in the north east district, yes?" Wilkins asked once outside on the relatively quieter sidewalk.

Tom nodded, feeling a twinge of disappointment that it was time to return. "Yes, sir. I'm surprised you know of it."

Wilkins smirked ruefully. "We had to use the old fire station as a base for a sting operation we were undertaking some years back. Got to know the neighborhood well enough during the month or so we were there."

Tom nodded to that answer and followed the auror to the nearest apparition platform.

"Ever done side along apparition?" Wilkens asked as they got in line behind a middle aged couple.

Tom shook his head. "No, sir."

Wilkens gave a wry chuckle. "You'll either dislike it or hate it the first time, but it'll get you home quick and safe. Close your eyes and take a breath in, it helps keep from getting sick."

Tom nodded and glanced to the platform nervously. "What's it feel like to apparate?"

"Like you're being forcibly squeezed through an incorporeal tube of toothpaste," Wilkens said with what Tom was realizing was his habitual frank manner when off duty.

"I suppose there's worse possibilities," Tom said with resignation.

Wilkins nodded, "That's the spirit, son. And it doesn't last long."

Their turn came up and Tom took the free hand Wilkins' offered him, the other having shopping bags slung over his arm and hand holding the trunk to be apparated with them. He closed his eyes, took the deep breath in, and then felt himself pulled and jerked at an incalculably swift speed, feeling as though he was being squished in on himself from the force of the movement. But he had hardly registered the feeling before it was over, leaving him stumbling forward on the gravely side street that intersected the dead end that Wool's was located on.

Wilkins steadied him with a hand to the shoulder, saying as he saw Tom put a hand to his mouth and his throat gulping to hold back his dinner, "Easy there, Tom. Take slow breaths and you'll be okay."

Tom concentrated on his breathing and managed not to vomit, but it was several seconds before his limbs stopped shaking. Wilkins patted him on the shoulder and to his inquiry, nodded that he was alright.

Once he was in control of himself again, Tom followed Wilkins up the street to Wool's. Wilkins said mildly, "With any luck, you'll be able to wait things out here until you leave for Hogwarts. We've got a substantial amount of evidence on the ruffians you crossed with and their lawyer will likely choose to bargain a lighter sentence for a guilty plea than leave it to the Wizengamot. We'll send you an owl enchanted not to attract muggle notice if they decide to press their luck and we need witness testimony. Someone will escort you there and back safely if that's the case."

Tom nodded. "Doesn't sound much different than muggle law."

Wilkins raised an eyebrow, glancing down. "Got much experience with that, do you?"

Tom immediately shook his head to the contrary. "No, sir. But living here, I see what happens with some of the brutes who get themselves in trouble."

Wilkins nodded once, giving a baleful glance at the orphanage. "If I were you, lad, I'd put in to spend holidays at Hogwarts. Safer and gives you more time to study. When you're old enough for a job, see about getting summer work and lodging at Diagon. There's some shopkeepers that will give you a room for reduced salary paid out. Less time you spend here, less likely something is to happen to you."

Tom nodded. "If I can spend holidays away, I will be doing so." After a few seconds silence, drawing near to the front gates, he asked, "How old does one have to be to be an auror?"

"We'll let you try your hand at training if you finish Hogwarts with top marks," Wilkins said with a smirk. "Til then, I'd suggest studying as much as you can. Maybe look into the more serious shops for summer work after your fifth year. Do well enough on your O.W.L.s and you might even be able to get one of the Martial Alley stores to take you on for summer. Those are good contacts to have on most any application you'll be wanting to place after graduation."

Tod nodded again, filing that information away in his mind. "Thank you, sir. I'll be sure to remember that."

Wilkins nodded and came to a halt outside the gate. A lazy wave of his wand set the shopping bags and trunk down next to Tom. He said with a half smile, "Take care of yourself, lad, and perhaps I'll be seeing you in seven years."

Tom gave a small bow of his head as he collected up the handles of his bags and trunk. "I was going to say the same to you, sir." Wilkins laughed at the cheeky response, as hoped. "Thank you for the dinner and, interesting, means of escort back."

"You're welcome," Wilkins said as he turned and gave a small wave of his wand, causing the gate to swing open for the student as one last gesture of goodwill.

Tom watched the auror walk off down the street, until the evening's shadows overtook him. There wasn't any working streetlamps immediately outside the orphanage, so that didn't take long. Tom wondered how hard it was to learn to cast spells without speaking incantations as he had seen the auror do. Was that something only aurors learned, to be more stealthy? He had so much to learn about being a proper wizard.

The young wizard glanced to the looming orphanage, the electricity had already been cut for the night and there was only a few windows faintly aglow with flickering candlelight, and a heavy sigh escaped him. He really wasn't looking forward to an entire month of being cooped up here, utterly isolated from anything and anyone remotely magical. September 1st couldn't come soon enough.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Amaryllis spent the next two weeks following her misadventure in Diagon Alley abed. Her father and Albus had easily repaired the hairline fractures to her ribs by giving her a dose of Skelegro and then putting her in a magical sleep so she wouldn't have to suffer through the painful regrowing process. Her innate healing ability as a dryad helped the process along, along with clearing up her minor scrapes and bruises, and she was deemed physically recovered by morning.

However, following the incident, she finally hit one of her periods of weakness. They weren't sure if the incident had triggered it, or the process of healing, or if it was due to happen on its own. Albus spent a great deal of time hovering in her bedroom, sensing out her magic, taking notes. Occasionally he'd perform some sort of diagnostic magic, slowly letting his glowing wand scan over her as he kept his eyes closed and seemed to be viewing information on the insides of his eyelids.

By the end of that week, Albus had to confess that, at this time, he was stumped as to the trigger of her illness. She had a great deal of latent magic, more than the last time he had scanned her, but he couldn't spot any buildups or blockages of magic within her, causing damage to her body. He couldn't find signs of her somehow unintentionally directing her own magic into a sort of rudimentary curse on herself to cause harm.

He could only note that her magic had increased a bit in the last few weeks, and that it felt more wild than most witches' and wizards' magic. That dismantled one of his theories that coincided with Lily's main theory outside the obvious problem- that her weak spells were possibly caused by a sudden drop in her magic. It seemed perhaps the opposite was true. Which, after much discussion with her father and with what was collectively known about nymphs, they were now theorizing that perhaps the sheer volume of magic coursing through her might be the problem, that her young body couldn't properly adjust to it. Which, as nymphs usually attached themselves to trees that allowed them not only a safe haven, but a conduit to draw in or ground power, might actually make sense.

They weren't sure how much magic nymphs usually wielded, but Albus could tell that Amaryllis had a great deal more magic within her than her aunt. Which, according to nymphs, was because she was the first daughter of a first daughter, so forth and so on back to the first groups of nymphs born of the mythical Gaia, otherwise know as Mother Earth. According to their traditions, each matriarch (who they referred to as 'Maha',) was meant to guard a section of their ancestral mother, and the power to do so was passed on through the generations to the eldest daughters. They were usually capable of having multiple daughters, who would further spread out their influence and aid in protecting wild areas, but those daughters did not have nearly as much power as the Maha of each family line. Over the millennia, thanks to human expansion, several wildlands had been decimated, and some lines of nymphs had been entirely wiped out.

According to Amaryllis, there were 9 remaining Maha, including herself, out of what was initially dozens of lines. There was one in Ireland, whom Albus was attempting (unsuccessfully, for the moment,) to make contact with, via instructions given by Lily. There was one in North America, one in South America, two in Africa, one in Russia, one in Tibet and one on a remote island in the Pacific Ocean. Without being able to observe another Maha, the wizards had little to gauge Amaryllis by in regards to normal nymph power level, and even less guidance on the matter. She could be perfectly normal in power level, and would be experiencing no trouble if she could only make her connection to nature.

That left them with the critical question of how to make the half-blood connect with such a conduit as her sacred trees.

Did the specific location of the tree make a difference, especially in her case? Maybe she wasn't meant to connect to the trees in Italy, but instead one from her father's land? He was by birth English and Spanish, (even though he had only visited Spain a handful of times in his youth,) so perhaps they'd need start taking her on tours of isolated woods around England and Spain to see if she felt any pulls to merge with one.

Was it a matter of, because she was a Maha, it wasn't so much where the tree was located, but that it was old enough or powerful enough to handle her magical power? Her wizarding side had allowed her to pair with a Rowan wand, so perhaps they should seek out ancient Rowan trees for her to try attuning with?

Or perhaps with her wizarding roots, they would in fact need to teach her proper magical techniques and need incorporate that into her merging. Would she be able to transfigure herself to be a part of the tree? Perhaps potions to expand energy or shift form? A charm to connect with nature's patterns and influence it? Some complex ritual they'd need develop specifically for her unique circumstance that involved an artifact or two that might catalyze her merging?

There were many theories, and theories spinning off those theories, but not much chance yet to prove or disprove them, to narrow down the possibilities.

Amaryllis didn't know any proper magic yet to see if expending her magic some might help her feel better, but they did try levitating her outside after a 3rd day of her illness had passed and worry for her had grown. She was dreadfully pale, her veins visible beneath her skin, and she felt alternatingly hot or icy to the touch. Her muscles were beset with faint tremors that grew noticeable as her illness lingered and she could barely lift her head that 4th morning to take a sip of water.

While she had enjoyed being brought outside and laid in a hastily constructed bower, murmuring she felt less confined now, it hadn't seemed to actually help. They had hoped that perhaps, even if she didn't have a tree to connect to, being among nature would provide a lesser relief. Zephyr and the house elves kept watch over the sick nymph as the two older wizards excused themselves to the library to consult their books for any clues to help.

And, what they didn't say to Amaryllis, allow Armando the chance to breakdown without his daughter seeing. The old wizard was quite close to a full break in mental capacity with the situation weighing on him. He had had to speak with the aurors when they showed up to confirm the ID of Amaryllis' attackers. Then relatives of all branches of his family had been trying to send a great many owls, demanding to know why he hadn't told any of them about having a daughter, why they had had to find out the same as anyone else, if he was going to be having a proper debut of the young witch to meet family before the school year started, or (if not) could they set a day for visiting with the new family member, and was she alright after the scuffle at Diagon Alley with the Mulciber wretches and their friends?

Albus had done what he could, sending off consolatory letters to the relatives under Armando's name, begging for patience as there was much to tell and Armando was still adjusting to a life of full time fatherhood, and that they were trying to keep his daughter from being overwhelmed, but yes, at some point, they'd be overjoyed to arrange all the proper meetings and perhaps a welcoming party.

But with Amaryllis' sudden shift in health, after seeming like a perfectly healthy young witch, Armando was far too worried to care about the niceties of societal mixing and family politics. And that everything they tried seemed to have no effect only made him feel worse.

As he said between suppressed sobs and furious bursts of magic leaking out, torching books that Albus had to hastily extinguish, he hadn't just discovered he had a daughter to lose her so soon. There absolutely had to be something they could do for her. It was just a matter of finding the right method. But there had to be something. Albus did his best to calm Armando, agreeing that yes, they should be able to find something to alleviate her symptoms until they could find a cure for the illness itself. Armando eventually collapsed onto a chair, and cried until he felt numb inside and could concentrate again.

It was also during this outburst, when Armando's guilt for leaving Amaryllis to wander on her own was at a peak, that he made passing mention of the name of the boy that had been there to rescue his daughter when he had been lax in his parental duties. While Albus was verbally trying to reassure his friend that he was not a horrible father for leaving Amaryllis in the relative safety of the Market, and that he was actually quite proud that the centuries old wizard had attempted such a modern outlook with his pre-teen daughter, Albus's inner thoughts were quite elsewhere.

He initially thought he had misheard Armando when he said that Tom Marvolo Riddle, of all children, had been the hero of the moment, fending off three attackers to protect Amaryllis. From what he had heard from the orphanage's Matron, young Riddle was an anti-social, secretive child with a propensity for bullying bullies and unexplained acts of cruelty to some of the other children who just happened to cross him in some way. The child had stolen from some of those children and used innate wandless magic to cause people harm. Not to mention, he was a parselmouth and, while Albus didn't wish to be prejudiced, that was almost exclusively tied to dark wizards with little care for other humans, as they took on with time many characteristics of their favored animal.

So how did such a child manage to do a complete turnaround in so short of a time? Was it possible the matron, or perhaps himself, had misjudged the child a bit too harshly? After some thought on the matter, during free moments over the next few days and after getting Armando to tell him further details of the incident, Albus was willing to cautiously think that perhaps that might just be the case. An orphanage, especially the likes of which young Riddle was growing up in, wasn't a nurturing environment for children. Perhaps the boy was just poorly coping with his surroundings, with being around muggles who were often cruel to anyone different, (as Albus knew better than most could be the case from his own experiences as a youth,) and his past actions were misguided retaliation for the harm that had been caused to him.

Having learned about the magical community, it might have inspired some sort of feeling of acceptance, of being less of an outsider. Perhaps such a recognition of sameness was causing the boy to take his elder's initial cautions to heart and he was trying to start off his wizarding life on the right foot? Albus wasn't naïve enough to think that the child was 100% reformed in such a short time, but perhaps he was on his way with genuine intent.

Otherwise, how else would one explain the child acting completely contradictory to what he previously seemed, risking his own wellbeing in the face of more skilled opponents to rescue a complete stranger in an alley? Staying with her and risking himself further until help could arrive? He had even been completely honest about his actions, instead of trying to hide them like he had when Albus had first visited with him.

It was a rather remarkable change to hear about, one that left Albus curious and puzzled. As much as he would like to follow up on it, though, they had more pressing matters. The boy had been safely escorted back to his orphanage and he'd be able to judge how the child was shaping up once school was in session. For now, the daughter of one of his few true friends needed his attention and aid, and he was determined to help to his full capacity. Their magical community was so small as it was, they couldn't afford to lose any more young witches to magic gone out of control.

After three more days of tending Amaryllis and research, it was the elves who thought to suggest having the wizards shield the estate with their magic so as not to draw attention, and then letting Amaryllis use her nymph magic on the property. Maybe that could provide a sufficient outlet to burn off some magic, and if the excess mixed magic itself was indeed part of the problem, they'd see results, no matter how she released the energy.

Albus and Armando proceeded to place a great many charms and jinxes around the property to ward off potential unwanted visitors and contain magic, then asked Amaryllis if she could concentrate enough to influence the family's woods any. She was not entirely coherent by then, but some part of her mind understood that her sire was giving her permission to access her innate gifts and she could play with the plants as she liked.

It started off with small things. She shakily pulled a hand from the blanket she was wrapped in and let it drop to the grass beneath her. Fingers entwining in the leafy blades, she reached out tentatively to sense the flow of their energy. It was easy enough to attune to, grass was a simple organism. With a bit of prodding and expenditure of magic, the grass beneath her hand became fuller, softer, more lush. The effect spread out in a slow pulse around her, until the nymph was in a patch of thick green meadow almost a hundred meters long.

Armando watched the transformation with a mixture of worry that she was expending too much energy, and awe at the simple beauty his daughter could create with but a thought and push.

Albus watched with pleased curiosity to the natural wonder of the girl doing what dryads did, something few humans were privileged to witness, and a great deal more clinical detachment. He was carefully monitoring her energy level and patterns, ready to break her out of her self-inflicted trance if there were any sudden spikes or drops in her energy, if there was any signs of harm being done.

After her minor communion with the grass, though, the exhausted girl fell asleep. When she woke a few hours later, she was slightly more coherent and, after the elves had fetched them from their discussions, the wizards explained what they were testing and wanted her to do. Amaryllis managed to give a tired nod and, lifting a hand and giving vague flicks of her fingers, vines that had been previously wrapped around a nearby oak tree and been used by the wizards in the hastily transfigured bower started creeping towards the nymph and she spent the next half hour directing them to make a more intricate shady canopy for her where she laid. That done, she murmured she was tired again and drifted back to sleep.

Albus had been monitoring her again and told Armando that the girl may be physically tiring herself out with the exercises of her power while ill, but it was slowly syphoning off her magic. And that may be a good thing, as already her temperature was beginning to stabilize and spike less one way or the other.

The second week spent with careful exercises saw Amaryllis slowly but steadily feeling better, and Armando's estate slowly but steadily seeing a peak of verdant beauty it had never before known. The entirety of the grounds was covered in lush grass and artfully dispersed dappling of flowers that seemed to grow from nowhere, old trees that had stopped flowering or fruiting seemed revived and young again. New bushes and plants to attract birds and butterflies and bees sprouted up everywhere she thought there should be one. She had even gotten bored enough, while waiting to be able to walk entirely on her own again, that she spent two whole days growing an intricate hedge maze from a design one of the elves found in a book.

And it seemingly proved their newest hypothesis. Lily might have erred in trying to keep Amaryllis from exerting herself in all but emergency situations, incidentally causing more damage by trying to prevent it.

It might be a tricky, delicate balancing act, but until they could get her to merge with a tree properly, they might be able to burn off some of her natural energy with such exercises and doing so might affect her health for the positive in the long term. As she learned proper wizard magic, she'd be able to burn off larger amounts of her magical stores in shorter amounts of time. Which was critically important for her to learn how to do, if they were correct, because magical reserves grew for both wizards and nymphs as they grew older, so there'd be more for Amaryllis to try coping with as she aged into her teen years.

Of course, that begged the question of how they were going to give her enough outlets to expend her energy in nymph ways, without drawing the attention of others, until she could properly expend magic in wizard ways and then eventually make her arboreal connection.

And they still weren't sure of what effect they'd see on Amaryllis' health if she burned too much energy by accident, how they'd transfuse outside energy to her to shore up her health. They would deal with that if and when the occasion arose, and make what hypothesis and preparations they could in the meantime to hopefully be ready.

For now, though, she seemed back to her old self, to everyone's relief.

But they had less than two weeks left until the start of the school year to figure out what their plan was. And Armando was past due to return to Hogwarts to oversee the final preparations for students arriving, though Albus and the other professors were kindly shouldering as many of those responsibilities as they could, feeling sympathetic to the old Headmaster's plight of new fatherhood and the scare in Diagon Alley with his daughter being attacked.

And he still needed to attend to family matters, as the flow of owls had gotten, if anything, heavier over the last few weeks and people felt more slighted by his aloof responses. He spoke with Amaryllis on the matter and she expressed tentative interest in meeting her extended wizarding family, but asked for more time adjusting to her new circumstances and learning to be a proper witch before being questioned in depth by people who'd feel they had the right to ask for more details. Armando was happy to oblige the request and told her they'd perhaps arrange for a family party for the winter holidays, but they could both use the extra few months to rest themselves and finish fleshing out the details of her fake history before coming to live with him.

Ten days before the start of term, cutting it much closer than professionally comfortable, Armando had them leave for Hogwarts via the Floo network that went directly to his office. Being a Headmaster had a few perks, including avoiding a long train ride or having to fly by broom. He used to enjoy a good fly, but he was really getting too old for such means of travel. He had to cast a number of charms to keep from getting too cold and too achey, and now he sometimes suffered from vertigo and was secretly terrified he'd fall from his broom stick. No. If he couldn't apparate or Floo, it likely wasn't worth the travel.

As she was feeling better, Amaryllis was introduced to her professors at Hogwarts that were already present at the school, and the dubious caretaker, Mr Pringle. Albus was not present, taking a short break to finish some private matters before returning to the school. There was a Professor Horace Slughorn to meet, a rotund, glib man in his early middle ages that nearly rushed to be the first to great them and meet the mystery daughter of their headmaster. Amaryllis wasn't certain how she felt about him from their first impression, except to think that she'd need to be especially careful around him because he hardly seemed the type to be able to keep secrets. Professor Galatea Merrythought was the next she met, an iron-grey haired elderly witch with sharp eyes and a serious manner that belied her advanced age. She was polite in her welcome, but more interested in mentioning to Armando that they had need to speak on a few forms that needed to be signed so she could have imported some subjects for the sixth years' class.

Professor Herbert Beery, the herbology teacher, was a cheerful man wearing brown robes to hide the dirt from his work and was most interested to hear from Armando that the youngest Dippet had a great love of plants and was looking forward to learning new things in his class. They were interrupted on the subject of growing the treacherous mandrake plants by Professor Silvanus Kettleburn , the dark haired handsome Care of Magical Creatures professor. Amaryllis was immediately in mind of a pirate, as the man had a wooden leg and dressed in bright colors, with a boisterous and carefree attitude. Professor Kettleburn, upon overhearing the word "mandrakes", wanted to know just when the seedlings would be ready, as he needed a batch to lure the Dugbogs from the swamp just inside the Forbidden Forest, so he could relocate them further from potentially wandering students. An argument ensued between the two on just how old the mandrakes needed to be before they'd make adequate bait, and Amaryllis quietly backed away from the bickering wizards.

She accidentally backed into Madame Hooch, a young woman with dark hair and hawkish eyes who taught flying to the first years. The professor, who was apparently just starting her 3rd year at the school, laughed off Amaryllis' apologies and said she sincerely hoped she'd see more attention of surroundings during class, or they'd be having more than a few incidents. Amaryllis felt thoroughly embarrassed and bashfully promised to try to pay more attention to where she was walking. Inwardly, the thought of flying terrified her. She was a nymph, and nymphs' feet belonged on the ground, communing with Terra. Birds, like Zephyr, belonged in the air and she didn't begrudge him his domain or wish to share it.

Her father intercepted her at that point, wanting to introduce her to Professors Aurora Sinistra and Filius Flitwick, both of whom were starting their first years as Hogwarts professors, Astronomy and Charms respectively. Professor Sinistra was a tall, lean, dark woman from Africa who spoke with an accent that Amaryllis found to be most enchanting, though the woman seemed to be sparse with her words because she was still mastering English, being more fluent in her native languages and French. Professor Flitwick seemed to be Professor Sinistra's exact opposite in every way. He was incredibly short, only coming up to the nymph's shoulders, fair skinned and tawny haired, stoutly built and full of excited energy to be present, making up for his quieter counterpart.

Amaryllis was informed that Professor Septima Vector wasn't present yet, but she would be teaching Arthimancy, which Amaryllis wouldn't be able to sign up for until her 3rd year. Professor Bins, the History teacher, was apparently a ghost who rarely left his quarters for anything except classes. Amaryllis wasn't sure how a ghost would go about teaching classes, but she supposed she'd learn soon enough. The Divination professor, Cassandra Vablatsky, was apparently held up at an international conference for oracles in Greece and would be arriving at the castle a few days before the start of term. The Ancient Runes and Ancient Studies professor, Yuri Blishen, was finishing some work in Egypt and would actually be arriving just a day before the start of term.

After that, she was given a short tour of the castle and shown to a guest room in the Headmaster's Tower, where she'd be allowed to sleep until the start of the school year and she was properly sorted into her house. Until then, she had permission to roam the castle as she liked, barring a few restricted areas, and her father wanted to be informed if she was going outside so he'd know where to find her.

Given the moving staircases, the trick stairs, the fake doors, and various ghosts roaming the deserted halls, Amaryllis said she'd prefer to have a guide when leaving the safety of the Headmaster's Tower, just until she knew her way around better. Her father nodded his understanding and after lunch he led her to one of the courtyards so she could enjoy some time outdoors until dinner.

The next several days were spent with Amaryllis learning what she could of the castle so she wouldn't get lost, spending time outside, reading some of her school books while outside, practicing some minor charms with her puzzle boxes to try getting the rudiments of wizard magic learned, and bugging her father about when she'd be allowed in the forest because she still had need to meet the local nymph within and speak with the Scot tribe of centaurs. Her father promised her that they would make proper introductions just as soon as they could, but he really needed to catch up on his duties as Headmaster first.

Amaryllis found her way into the kitchens one evening and met the castle's house elf population. They could instantly tell she was a nymph, even had they not been warned by her father, but had also already been sworn to secrecy. They let her visit with them and plied her with many confections until she felt she'd explode from the amount she had eaten. Besides them, though, her only frequent companion was Zephyr, as the adults were all very busy preparing for the start of school.

The half-blood found herself feeling lonely, and subsequently anxious for the start of school year so she could visit the forest. And, just maybe, make a few friends among the young magic folk that would be her peers at the school.

That thought brought to mind the brave boy she had met at Diagon Alley, Tom. He was quite unlike the ruffians she had been chased by. For one thing, the magic that radiated from him was palpable. Her only excuse for not noticing his presence sooner in the alley was her obvious distraction with being chased and the ambient magic of the shops and their contents around them, but the boy was undoubtedly blessed with a wellspring of magic at his command. One in which he already had in tight control, and made use of with stunning precision to fight off those other boys.

It was downright impressive, if she was to be honest when thinking back on the event. He seemed very serious, and a bit cynical, but he had been kind enough, with a brusque sort of compassion. His mannerisms in some ways reminded her of some of the centaurs back home- fierce and proud, sarcastic yet perceptive, solitary yet steadfast guardians of those they deemed worthy of protecting. For all the strain that event had placed on her, and despite the fact he wasn't even a full year older than herself, she had actually felt safe with him watching over her while they waited for her father to arrive.

She had also caught his mention of being from an orphanage to her father and the auror. She didn't know the word "orphanage", but she did know "orphan" and could make the logical guess it was a place for orphans to go. He didn't have parents, and her mother had died and she grew up without her sire. She could well guess his self-reliant and brusque nature may very well come from having to look after himself. She knew how that could be. And they were both starting Hogwarts in the same year, at least knowing one another beforehand. She was hoping perhaps he didn't find her to bothersome and he might turn out to be someone she could consider a friend for the duration of her time among magic folks. For all he chastised her, he hadn't seemed to mind making acquaintance with her and said he'd see her around.

The faint blush on her cheeks at the thought of the snake-speaking wizard was swiftly faded, though, by the stray thought of the ruffians. Apparently successful legal repercussions had been brought against them for their actions that day, but part of the plea bargaining for the admittance of guilt meant they'd still be attending school. She was not looking forward to seeing them around the castle and was more than a little concerned that they might try to do something against her for the trouble they were in for their earlier actions. Her father had tried to assure her that the professors would be keeping a close eye on things, but as she knew from her explorations, this castle was massive and the teachers couldn't possibly see everything that took place.

So, it was with mixed feelings and wary hope that Amaryllis found herself eventually greeting the first day of the school's opening. Waking up late, for the last time this summer, she met her father and a newly returned Albus for a private breakfast. They spent the morning discussing their plans to meet with the centaurs the next weekend, and possible projects she could set for herself in the Forbidden Forest in the evenings to burn off her magic reserves, provided she had the safe escort of one of the two wizards. The Headmaster and Deputy Headmaster had need of readying themselves for receiving students, so they parted ways for the time being, promising Amaryllis someone would be sent to lead her down to the Great Hall and mingle with her peers for the Sorting Ceremony and welcoming feast.

Amaryllis filled the afternoon mentally replaying what was and was not okay to say around magic-folk (including not to call them magic-folk), chatting with Zephyr while she still had the time and freedom to do so, and settling on an outfit to wear for her first meetings with her classmates, as humans cared so very much about such trappings.

As evening fell, lights were magically lit around the castle, and she could see from her window the great lake in which the boats were gathering at on the other side, with Professor Kettleburn guiding them (which only increased the pirate image to her mind when she heard who was sent to escort the first years.)

Her father ended up having Professor Beery come fetch her when the time was right, which she took as a kindness. She had spoken with the herbology professor a bit more than the other professors, as his trips between greenhouses and general caretaking of the grounds' flora meant that they had run into one another on more than a few occasions while she spent her time wandering outside to keep herself feeling some small measure of grounded to nature. He really did know a great deal about his vocation, and she always learned something new from their chats about the wizarding perspective of plant keeping. Including the answer to her question about why her class was called "Herbology" and not "Herbalism". Apparently, wizards called mundane plant keeping herbalism, but the study of magical plants or mundane plants that'd be raised for magical purposes was called herbology to differentiate the two practices.

Soon enough, sooner than she was honestly ready for, they had made it down the many flights of stairs towards the Entrance Hall. To avoid the older students for the moment, Professor Beery led her through a small side corridor that would take them to the annex first years were gathered in. They paused in front of the hidden door, where she could hear many young voices on the other side, so she could have a moment to collect herself before slipping in with the other students. Thanking Professor Beery for the assistance, he opened the door just wide enough for her to slip through, and she found herself at the back of the group gathered.

A few students noticed her attempt at a discrete entrance, but besides some confused or curious glances, they quickly turned their attention back to the speech Professor Dumbledore was giving at the head of the hall. Professor Dumbledore caught her eye for a moment, sparing an encouraging wink for her without pausing in his speech, in fact becoming a bit more animated for a few seconds to guaranty he had the students' full attention trained back on him so a fuss wouldn't be made.

Amaryllis took a deep breath, thankful for the smooth integration, and then glanced around the crowd. Almost as though she could feel the gaze, her eyes were drawn like a magnetic pull to the dark gaze of the familiar face she was seeking, who was the only other person not paying attention to Professor Dumbledore's speech. She couldn't help it, she broke into a pleased grin when she saw Tom standing off to the side of the crowd on the other side of the hall. She saw a small smirk pull at his lips and he gave her a brief nod. Taking that as invitation, feeling like perhaps he had been waiting for her, she deftly slipped around the twenty or so students between them so she could greet him. As she got closer, she noticed a small scratch along his jaw. It was fresh, the blood crusting along the wound and at the edge of his shirt collar was still a dark, vibrant red; and there was some mild bruising just forming around the injury.

Had he gotten into another fight already?! And who had managed to injure him?! Just what happened?!

Apparently her gaze showed her concern, because Tom absently pulled his collar up a bit as she came to stand next to him, hiding the injury from sight. Smirk still playing at his lips, he said in a whisper, "Evening, Amaryllis. How was the rest of your summer?"

She glanced up at him, and he seemed entirely unfazed, like nothing could be the matter. "Tom, are you alright?" she asked anxiously.

Tom shushed her under his breath, as her voice wasn't quite a whisper. After a glance around to make sure no one had noticed, he nodded, smirk widening ever so slightly and now taking on a hint of confidence. "Quite alright, I promise."

"What happened?" Amaryllis asked, minding her volume.

"Nothing I couldn't handle or you should worry yourself over," Tom whispered back, finally looking down to meet her gaze.

Amaryllis felt barely any relief at his easy replies. "What happened?" she repeated.

Tom rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the front of the crowd. Still, after a few seconds, he said grudgingly, lips barely moving, "I'm sure you'll notice a lack of thief in the crowd?" Amaryllis looked around and indeed could not spot the boy who had robbed her. To her questioning gaze, Tom simply muttered, "Seems out friends from the alley weren't convinced I won our duel fair and square because I had the advantage of surprise. I proved them quite wrong. They're fine, but Madam Parkinson will need some time to reverse the jinxes I left them with."

Amaryllis glanced up at the boy in shocked amusement. "Is that even allowed? What if that gets you in trouble?"

Tom shrugged, attention still forward. "The Mulciber gang wasn't willing to say who jinxed them, not after what happened before. They claimed they were rough housing among themselves and got carried away. Can't get in trouble if they don't know or can't prove it was you. I figured they'd say something like that, and it was worth the risk now to get them to leave us alone for the rest of the year."

Amaryllis had to suppress a giggle at his now mischievous and prideful tone. He really was something else, wasn't he? And she didn't miss his usage of the word "us". Apparently he was of the same thought she had been since their meeting- that they had a potential for friendship and solidarity. "What'd you do to him?"

Tom glanced back down to her, then winked and nodded ahead to the moving crowd so she'd pay attention to the rest of the group. "Time to get sorted. I'll tell you after the ceremony."

Amaryllis nodded and filed in front of him at his courteous gesture to go before him. Perhaps this year at Hogwarts wouldn't be so hard to endure after all, if she had a friend like Tom to pass time with and help her cope with these magic folk.

.

.

.

Tom had spent August restless, wanting school to start and resenting his prison of an orphanage more than he could remember ever having resented it. If that fight hadn't broken out, he would have had a few more weeks among his wizarding peers, but instead he was stuck with these muggles. The other children could tell he was in a foul mood and gave him a wide berth. That placated his anger only in the slightest ways. He was able to read through the rest of his books, and picked out a few more spells that he thought he'd likely be able to cast with a bit of practice.

He had also finished up the dueling book Auror Wilkins gave him, finding it useful if he kept in mind the auror's words about how dueling tactics could be used in even non-traditional settings. And as Wilkins had told him, there was some basic spells useful in duels listed at the back, complete with diagrams to show proper casting. They looked more advanced than spells he had previously learned, but he practiced the wand movements for a few of the easier jinxes and shields in the evening, then practiced the incantations to get used to saying them, and some part of his brain was feeling confident that if he combined the two, he'd be able to cast the spells.

When he was forced to go outside and take a break from his studies, Tom tried to find as many snakes as he could, to question them on what a "mistress" was to them. Unfortunately, the urban dwelling snakes had no idea, saying it must have been something to do with the vipers and their homelands, perhaps their term for a female parselmouth. Tom was frustrated with that answer, especially because he knew that the witch he had met spoke to more than just snakes, so he had a feeling the answer was more than regional differences in snake-speak. He'd have to wait until school started and then see if perhaps he could convince Amaryllis to tell him how she could speak to birds as well.

September 1st eventually came, much to Tom's relief. Mrs. Cole also seemed to be relieved to be rid of him, making sure he was up earlier than needed so they could get to the train station with plenty of time to spare. Upon arrival, he told her he didn't need help getting his things to the platform and she willingly left him to his business. Exerting a bit of mental influence to levitate the weight of his trunk a tiny fraction, not enough to be noticeable but enough to make it easy to maneuver, he made his way to the open area between platforms 9 and 10.

He kept in mind Professor Dumbledore's instructions to access 9 ¾, and spotted one wizarding family disappear through the magical gateway. Seemed easy enough.

Tom tightened his grip on his trunk and strolled through the portal, refusing to show any nervousness about crossing this important threshold to his wizarding future. He came out onto a platform just starting to fill with wizards and witches and their children. He glanced around and didn't see any young familiar faces, friendly or unfriendly. He wasn't expecting to see Amaryllis here; her father had told Wilkins they were going to Hogwarts weeks before start of school so he could dive into work. However, he did want to keep an eye out for the Mulciber cousins and their friends, just in case they were wanting to start another round of trouble. No sign of them yet, but as he made his way towards the gleaming, red and gold Hogwarts Express steam engine, he did see Aurors Wilkins and Blishwick off to one side, keeping an eye on the platform to make sure everyone boarded without problems.

Wilkins noticed him and gave a small wave and nod. Tom gave his trademark charming smile and made a short detour to say hello and thank him for use of the book.

"Hello, Tom," Auror Wilkins said in good humor once the boy was in easy hearing range. "Make it through the rest of summer alright?"

Tom nodded and said, "Yes, sir, I did, but I'm very happy to be here today. I just wanted to thank you again for the book, I finished reading it this summer and I think it will be very useful come time for Dueling Club."

That brought a smile to Wilkins' face and he asked, "Finished it already? " He chuckled, "Suppose I shouldn't be surprised with a bright lad like you. You saved the practicing for Hogwarts, though, correct?"

Tom nodded, and said as innocently as he could, "Of course, sir. You and Headmaster Dippet made it clear there was to be no magic outside Hogwarts again."

Auror Wilkins let out a hardy laugh at that, and gave Tom a knowing look. "I'd wager you didn't mind studying the spells in so far as you could without actually casting them, though, didn't you?"

Tom let a guilty smile creep across his face, "I might've looked them over, but only because I did take to heart the warning of the possibility of delinquents in hallways possibly causing trouble."

Wilkins gave him a wink. "Good lad." He glanced to his partner, who was watching them with a faintly amused expression. "I'm telling you, Blishwick, we'll need keep an eye on his progress. I think this one's going to be joining us someday."

Blishwick gave a small nod. "That's possible, if he keeps up the hard work and stays out of trouble."

Tom gave another winning smile at the votes of confidence, and it was partly fueled by genuine pride at the confidence Wilkins spoke with. "I don't want any trouble, sir. As long as people let me get along to my studies in peace, there won't be any."

Wilkins nodded and said with a hint of concerned warning, "I believe you, son. Keep an eye out, though. We were able to get the guilty pleas from the boys, but part of them admitting guilt and their parents agreeing to pay some substantial fines for that concession was that they'd be allowed to continue their schooling, instead of being expelled as they could've been. I'm sure their fathers let them have it once they were healed up from their initial injuries, so they'll be wanting to take their frustrations out somewhere. Don't make yourself an easy target. You are allowed to defend yourself if they fire off the first combative spell and school officially starts the moment you step on the train."

Tom said seriously, "I'll keep aware, sir. I promise. And I won't be the one to instigate a conflict." Inwardly, he realized and was thankful Wilkins was giving him the heads-up on how the case had turned out, and confirming for him that while he should behave, it was okay to trounce the bullies if they came after him.

Wilkins gave a nod, then gestured towards the train. "Well then, about time you get yourself a cabin to relax in for the trip. It's some hours to get to Hogwarts and you don't want to be scrabbling for a cramped spot at the last minute."

"Thank you, sir, I'll do that," Tom said agreeably. He looked to the other Auror, then Wilkins, saying, "I hope you both have a quiet day."

Blishwick nodded and said, "Thank you, young Tom. Have a good school year."

"Take care, Tom," Wilkins said, giving a final smile.

Tom departed for the train, noticing that a few people were giving curious glances between him and the aurors, obviously wondering who the lone child was and how he knew the aurors. He kept his attention forward, though, and boarded the train with as much nonchalance as he could manage. He found an empty cabin about a third of the way from the back of the train, on the side away from the platform. He closed and locked the door behind him, lowered the screen on the window, and assured of privacy he swiftly changed into his school outfit.

Looking down at his grey, orphanage outfit, Tom grimaced. It looked like something a prisoner or mental patient should wear. They really didn't try to inspire the kids at Wool's any. His gaze went over his school robes and under garments, and a smirk formed. The other students could stay in their state-sponsored cells of drudgery and conformity. He had found a way out of that hell hole, and he was going to stay free of it one way or other.

In a pique of rebellious thought, not caring how he'd have to explain the loss come summer, Tom summoned by sheer will a bluebell flame and tossed the drab garments in. His flame wrapped around the clothing and they were ashes in seconds. There went any proof of his dismal muggle home life, he thought proudly. A prod with his thoughts, the window slid open, and he directed the ashes out the window. It was a lovely day out, for a change, and he left the window cracked open.

Thrumming with prideful glee for his summoning of the bluebell flame without words or wand, he pulled out his wand from his trunk and slipped it into his outer robe's pocket. He also gathered up his History book, as that was the one subject he was having difficulties absorbing the information on. It was tedious, with so many similar names of people and places that they blurred together in his mind. He definitely needed to give it another read through. A wave of his hand, he silently levitated his trunk to the overhead storage rack and then settled into his seat to study.

He ignored the sounds of students in the hall outside his cabin, but the occasional jostle of the locked doorknob by someone seeking seating space would cause him to casually place a hand in the pocket containing his wand. Couldn't be too careful with delinquents somewhere on the train. He was _not_ going to be caught off guard. He was _not_ going to spend the year in fear of potential retaliation, or multiple incidents of bullying. First time they tried something, he was going to make it abundantly clear that he was far more dangerous than the rest of them combined and they'd better recognize there was a new pecking order at Hogwarts.

Fortunately, though, boarding went quietly and eventually he heard the train whistle, soon followed by a small lurch of his cabin as it began to move. Tom breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in his seat some, swinging his legs up to stretch on the bench and prop his book against.

He spent the next few hours reading the massive tome, trying to not fall asleep from boredom so he could hopefully get this damn information memorized. His studying was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by a cheerful call from an elderly voice of, "Tea and treats trolley, dear. Do you want anything off the Trolley?"

Tom glanced up and considered the question. He was fairly hungry. And he did have some spare sickles and knuts because he hadn't spent as much time in Diagon as planned and had been frugal with his school stipend. "Yes, please," he called back. "One moment while I grab my money bag."

"Of course, dear, of course," the witch said agreeably. "Gives me a moment to rest my feet."

Tom retrieved his bag, unlocked the door, and surveyed the trolley with a polite smile for the neatly dressed elderly witch pushing it. He recognized some of the sweets from shops in Diagon Alley, and found that he wasn't quite in the mood for the more sugary offerings. Finally he said, "Tea, please, black. And some cockroach clusters and vanilla ice-cream."

The trolley witch nodded pleasantly and pulled the requested treats, saying, "Can't say too many younger students have much appetite for the clusters."

"I'm not one for chocolates," Tom said with a shrug. Given the things he was forced to eat at the orphanage, a nutty and caramel confection in the shape of a bug wasn't going to offend his palette.

"All the better," the trolley witch said, "though I suppose it's a bit contrary with my profession. But children who overload themselves with sweets do cause such a mess of the cabins."

Tom accepted the bag of candies and little paper bowl of no-melt ice cream. "I promise not to leave a mess."

The witch finished pouring the tea and said as she handed it to him, "Well that'd be sweet of you, dear. 5 knuts, please."

Tom nodded, set the treats and tea cup on the bench seat, and fished out the requested knuts. The trolley witch accepted them with a smile and wished him a happy trip.

Tom closed the door to his cabin and sat cross-legged on a bench, taking his time to enjoy the fresh tea and rare occasion of treats. The cockroach clusters, despite their odious appearance and propensity for skittering in the bag to avoid being eaten, were tasty. The perfectly cold and creamy ice cream was a welcome balance to the crunchy sweets, as hoped. He alternated between the two, with an occasional sip of his tea before it could go cold.

Treats finished, he crumpled up the disposable tea mug and clusters' bag, put them in the ice cream cup, and left the cabin to find a trash bin to dump them in and a loo to use. He found the bathroom at the back of the carriage, and fortunately a trash can was present.

He finished up and was about to flush the toilet when he heard outside the lavatory, "I know I saw him go this way."

Tom stiffened. It could be anyone looking for anyone else, but he was fairly certain the voice was Antonin, and from the menacing tone he wasn't looking for a friend. Seems Wilkins was right on the mark about these boys wanting retribution and starting early.

"We checked all the cabins." That whine definitely came from the younger Mulciber cousin.

Tom's hand slipped into the pocket with his wand, and he felt the comforting thrum of magic connecting to catalyst as his fingers wrapped around the bone-pale wood.

As he took up a dueling stance defensively, he heard Antonin say, "He's either in the loo or he went to the next carriage."

A pause, then, from a deeper voice, "I'll check the next carriage for him."

"Bugger off, Fenrir. You can check the loo."

"Why me?" Fenrir asked, sounding agitated.

"Because I said so," Antonin snapped back.

Tom rolled his eyes. They were kind of pathetic, even in a pack. He needed to nip this problem in the bud now.

"What if it's a professor in there?" Fenrir grumbled.

Tom slid open the bathroom door, noted all but the elder Mulciber cousin present, and said sarcastically, "If it was a professor, I'm certain they'd be wanting to know why you're in the halls while the train is moving. Mind letting a bloke past?"

All eyes turned to him, with varying levels of surprise that swiftly morphed to furious recognition. Tom's mind was already devising his plan of attack, remembering advice from the auror on dealing with being outnumbered.

"You!" Antonin barked out.

"Yes, me," Tom said with a smirk. "Do I need ask a second time?" His gaze went to the thief, "I think we all remember how that went last time."

The thief lifted his wand to toss a spell at him, but Tom already was taking a step back and as Mulciber started to say, "Exp…." Tom made a slashing motion with his wand, using a spell from their defense book, saying sharply, "Verdimillious!"

A flash of brilliant green sparks burst from the tip of his wand, causing his opponent to stop his own incantation as he shouted with pain and threw up his arm protectively over his flash-burned face. The other two ruffians were likewise shielding their faces, sustaining only small, minor burns on their arms, but were momentarily blinded by the bright flash.

Tom wasted no time sending a knockback Jinx at the big brute, Fenrir, which sent him flying into Antonin, causing them both to collapse to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Unfortunately, Antonin had had just enough time to fire off a cutting hex, but his aim was ruined by Fenrir's collision and Tom was able to move out of the way enough that the spell barely grazed his jaw. Still, that to the head or neck would've killed him. Seeing Antonin lose his wand in the collision with Fenrir, Tom disarmed Mulciber, caught the wand with his off hand as it flew to him, and a mental push tossed the boy on the other two troublemakers, causing more groans of pain.

Before they could recover properly, Tom decided to try one of the easier curses found in their defense book and pointed his wand at Fenrir, saying "Petrificus Totalis!"

Fenrir, who was just extricating himself from the pile, found his legs snap together and his arms snap to his sides, and he toppled back over, driving into Antonin's chest and causing yet another pained grunt from the ebon haired ringleader.

Smirking at his prowess, Tom switched over to Mulciber's wand, which was awkwardly weighted and foreign feeling in his hand, and debated a few seconds on the few rudimentary jinxes and curses he had read in their defense book. No, those were too nice after what Antonin had done, trying to corner him in a loo and causing him to bleed.

He decided to try something he had read in the dueling book, though it was theoretically above his grade level. He made the proscribed sharp wand movements, what looked almost like the outline of a key handle, as he said, "Locomotor Mortis!" Antonin's legs snapped together, which seemed less debilitating than the Petrifying curse, but apparently this one was much harder to reverse, requiring a very technical counter-spell or potion.

He shifted the Mulciber wand to be held with his, willed Antonin's wand to his dominant hand, pointed it at the thief and settled on a rather appropriate, "Furnunculus!" Pus filled boils swiftly rose up on his face. Tom called for Fenrir's wand, then cast the spell again, this time at Antonin, who really deserved another layer of punishment for the scratch he had dealt him.

Tom could hear people questioning one another in their cabins about whether to risk opening their doors to find out who was fighting, and someone suggested signaling for the Prefects or Head Boy and Girl.

Tom stepped outside the bathroom, and a mental grab and throw silently sent one bully after the other tumbling into the bathroom. Tom tossed the wands in the sink, and said to them, "I'm playing nicely because we're on the school train, but we all know I could take advantage of your ineptitude and current disabled states to humiliate you further or slice something vital off."

He pointed his wand warningly at Antonin, who was stuck between Fenrir on top and Mulciber beneath him, and whose eyes crossed trying to keep the wand tip in view. Tom let his voice go to an icy whisper that had never failed to scare the children at his orphanage, "You are going to call off your petty grudge, started by Mulciber here's own stupidity, and leave me, and Amaryllis Dippet, alone for the entirety of this year. Prove to be stupider than you look and come after us, you'll all be needing a trip to Mungo's to have any chance of ever casting another spell again."

He heard a small magical wail go up from a nearby cabin, and assumed someone was trying to get the attention of those in charge of keeping order. He could also smell fresh urine coming from in front of him, though which had soiled themselves was unclear. He asked with a sanguine smile, "Do we have an understanding, Antonin?"

Antonin nodded once and snapped out, "Yes, you damned freak!"

Tom's eyes narrowed. "I don't like your tone of voice." He used his innate power to make Antonin stick his tongue out, grabbed Fenrir's short, dark wand (as it had been the least resistant to use) from the sink and used it to swiftly cast the Engorgement charm from their Charms book on it. It swiftly swelled many times larger than what seemed physically possible.

Antonin nearly gagged on his own tongue as his head jerked down from the weight of it.

Tom's gaze went to Mulciber. "Seems you three got into a rather nasty argument and went a bit far in cursing one another. Do you need the same to ensure you don't say anything to the contrary?"

Mulciber, already starting to blubber a bit as Antonin's drool hit his face, shook his head frantically and stuttered out many no's.

Tom turned on a heel, shut the door behind them, then looked both ways down the corridor. Seemed all clear. He just about ran to his cabin, and was just closing the door when he heard noise coming from the back of the carriage, people entering to see what the noise was about. Tom carefully shut his door, gathered up his history book, sat down on a bench and balanced the book on his knees. While faking reading, one hand was pressing against the injury on his jaw to stem the trickle of blood, and with the other he had his wand muffled under his leg as he whispered basic "lumos" and "nox" charms in quick succession to hopefully cover his tracks if any Prefects or the Head Boy or Girl knew how to check wands for recently cast spells.

There was a great deal of commotion down the hall, but no one came looking for him specifically, nor for possible combatants in general. After the thirtieth repetition, to mimic a whole month's worth of the only spells he could get away with casting outside Hogwarts for evening study, he slid his wand out from beneath his leg, used the simple cleaning charm from the front of their charms book to clear the blood from his hand, and then slid his wand back into his pocket.

The noise in the hall soon subsided and the rest of the train ride had gone peacefully. When they finally reached their destination, Tom departed the train with a rather light gait, and a pleased smirk formed as he saw the Mulciber gang being levitated off the train by a group of older students who looked thoroughly disgusted with them. He managed to compose his expression back to neutrality, but he was gloating inwardly. He had dealt with the Mulciber gang twice now, this time besting them even when they were fully aware of his presence because they had been looking for him. With as thoroughly as he had trounced them this time, they'd have to be very stupid to try for a third encounter. And he had managed to cast two new spells he had only read about previously. If that wasn't something to mentally celebrate, he didn't know what was.

The first years were called together to ride small boats on the side of a lake by a tall professor with an odd limp, that Tom soon spotted was caused by having a wooden leg. The professor chatted amiably with some younger siblings of older students that he recognized from the resemblance as he led them to the boats. Tom glanced around the side of the lake and found a boat with only one other student in it, so he sat down across from the boy, who was studiously looking forward and obviously trying not to interact with anyone.

As the boats seemed to steer themselves across the lake, Tom took note of how large the lake was, how smoothly the boats cut through the placid waters, and then… Then Hogwarts castle came into view.

Tom couldn't help but stare. It was massive, and ancient looking, aglow with moonlight above and candlelight in the windows. It looked like something out of medieval books, a place one could believe magic happened within. He didn't notice the other students going into awed silences as well, nor his boat-partner leaning perhaps a bit more than he should in wonder. His mind raced with imaginings of the possibilities, of how far he could take his magic as he learned this revered castle's secrets. This, this was the start of something fated, he could feel it.

As the boats drew beneath the castle, heading for a craggy inlet and they were shrouded in darkness, Tom breathed in deeply. The air was cool and damp, soothing to the skin and lungs. And there was already undercurrents of magic tingling on his skin. There was power here. His future, his destiny, was here.

He had never known a home before, he hadn't stepped foot in the halls yet, but Tom felt like for the very first time he had found where he belonged.

The other students scrambled to get off the boats, some tripping over their new robes, and inside to the welcoming feast. Tom took his time, getting out with as much dignity as he could. He didn't want to rush this moment. This was something he wanted to imprint deeply in his mind and treasure.

They were led by the Professor, Kettleburn he thought he heard said, through the boat house and a long winding rough-hewn corridor that eventually connected to proper halls via a massive oak door. This new hall was moderately lit by candlelight, likely to keep from blinding students with brighter lighting after the walk through darkened corridors. Kettleburn introduced the assistant headmaster to the students before taking his leave, but Tom recognized Professor Dumbledore without introduction.

Some students crowded forward to hear Dumbledore's welcoming speech to the first years, but Tom looked around to admire the moving paintings. And, if he was being honest, scan for Amaryllis. She'd obviously not be on the train or boats, what with being here early with her father, but surely she'd have been waiting to meet with the other first years? Apparently not. Tom wondered how she had healed up from the attack last month. Maybe there had been complications and he hadn't done such an admirable job protecting her? He hoped that wasn't the case, as that'd lower the Headmaster's esteem of him. Wilkins hadn't mentioned any such complications, though, hadn't lost any regard, so he didn't think it so likely.

He was studying a picture of three witches arguing over a cauldron when the wall directly next to it cracked open. And who came slipping through but the very potential social ally he had been hoping to see. She looked recovered from last month's event: hair immaculately brushed and some braids woven to pull her long tresses back from her face, rosy cheeked and biting her lower lip. She looked nervous, hands smoothing the rich black silk dress she wore beneath her school robes, violet eyes scanning the crowd and seeming to avoid the gazes of some people nearer to her that noticed her quiet entrance.

Then Amaryllis' gaze fell on him before he could look away. And then she broke into what may have been the sunniest smile he had ever seen; certainly the most pleased smile someone had ever given to him. He hadn't expected her to be quite so pleased to see him, and that radiant smile momentarily stilled his mind of all the plotting he had been up to since finding out about Hogwarts. All he could feel was a reactive pride and smug pleasure that she had utterly ignored all the others to find him first.

A small smirk crept to his face of its own volition. Seems the Headmaster's daughter had appreciated his aid in truth and not just words. Trying to not give away how pleased he was by the attention, he simply nodded to show he had seen her. She glanced at the crowd between them, then moved to walk around back of them to reach him. Apparently the pureblood daughter of the Dippet patriarch had no qualms about being seen socializing with someone of less certain lineage in open public. As she drew closer, he saw her eyes fix under his jaw, where he had been injured. Damnit, apparently his collar had slipped. Trying to act casual, he fixed it back in place to hide the injury.

Unfortunately, she didn't take the hint and ignored his greeting, asking what had happened. A short exchange ensued to- 1) ease her worries and not have a scene made, and 2) perhaps impress her a bit and reinforce that she had a competent ally to rely on should she need and want one. Both seemed well accomplished; and as hoped from her own willingness to deal with matters on her own and use less than polite means to do so, the witch was pleased by his news and curious about exactly what he had done. At least the headmaster's foreign daughter wasn't an uptight goody-two-shoe. That would make her easier to tolerate on a long term basis.

As they filed into the Great Hall, the line becoming more of an uneven procession, Amaryllis' expression became nervous again and her pace slowed a fraction. Tom stepped next to her so he wouldn't end up stepping on her heels, and noticed from the corner of his eye that she looked up at him.

When he glanced down, she murmured, "Any idea what house you want to be sorted into?"

Tom shrugged, then said, "Honestly?" She nodded. "I thought from what I read in our history book that Slytherin seemed most appropriate." What he didn't say was that as much as he wanted to join Slytherin because from everything he had read it seemed ideal for his ambitions, he knew he couldn't be placed there because they only accepted purebloods or the occasional highly-connected halfblood. He was neither.

She looked momentarily surprised at his choice, then considering. Finally she smiled that sunny smile and nodded. "House of the Snake would be rather appropriate for you. Though I thought perhaps you might say Gryffindor with as courageous as you were."

Tom rolled his eyes, smirk now a tad scornful. "Gryffindor? No. Lions are loud and need a huge pack to survive." He glanced back down to the witch and said teasingly, "With your roar, though, you might get placed there."

Amaryllis' cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she shuffled her feet, which were clad in those old-fashioned slipper shoes again, this time a black pair. She glanced back up at him and said, "I just don't like thieves and bullies. But I don't think I'm the stuff of Gryffindor House."

"Where do you think you'll be placed?" Tom asked quietly, noticing the first years were starting to quiet down as the Headmaster stepped up to the podium to address everyone.

Amaryllis glanced over to her father and then shrugged. Any answer she might give was cut off, though, as her father began speaking and she turned her attention to him.

Tom did the same, and paid attention as some beginning of the year announcements were made, including the introduction of two new teachers to the school and some new rules were laid out.

Then the moment of truth arrived. Professor Dumbledore was given the stage and he announced that it was time for the Sorting Ceremony, gesturing to a stool with an ancient frayed hat atop it.

The first name in alphabetical order was called out. "Ludo Bagman!" A taller young boy with messy, shaggy light brown hair and pristine robes had to make his way from the middle of the crowd of first years.

Amaryllis shifted nervously and glanced back at Tom again. She whispered, "Tom?"

Tom replied with a quiet, "Hm?"

"I know we only had the one meeting," Amaryllis said, looking at her intertwined fingers in front of her, "and I've heard students assigned to different Hogwarts houses usually have troubles getting along, but I hope whatever house we're assigned, we might be able to be friends this year."

Tom let an easy smirk slide across his face and he ducked his head, saying near her ear so they'd not be overheard, "I thought maybe we might be friends already." To her pleased yet confused look, he said, "Seems a state to be after facing down common opponents and having some similar affinities for animals, yes?"

She gave that sunny smile yet again and nodded, "Si. Yes."

He nodded and straightened his stance. "That's settled then. Let the others make their cliques based on houses. We'll do as we like."

She nodded and seemed to almost radiate her happiness at his declaration of friendship. He hadn't expected to win her over quite so easy, but apparently he had truly made a good impression on the foreign witch and she wanted to secure what friendships she could as early as she could. He was more than willing to fill the roll and have every in to society he could.

A/N: And here we go. One of the longest chapters for this fanfic so far. I hope, combined with the chapter earlier this week, it helps make up for the long time I was gone for. Life got insanely busy and summer was filled with non-stop real life issues to sort out. I'm rather pleased with how this chapter turned out. Next is the official sorting and the start of the school year. Let me know what you thought of Tom's second duel, how Amaryllis is adjusting to her new life, or any thoughts or predictions you have for the first year. I seem to be on a roll for inspiration and I'll try to have the next chapter completed within the next week. Have a great weekend!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Amaryllis shifted anxiously as she waited for her name to be called. It was so silly- being nervous over this sorting. It was such a human custom to do, dividing everyone up into different groups for arbitrary reasons. But she knew from her father that this sorting process was important to magic folk. Whichever house she was sorted in would affect what sort of classmates she was surrounded by, her potential prospects for friends depending on how much stock the other individual put into house qualities and rivalries, and blending in with her peers by trying not to seem odd for her house.

The Bagman boy was sorted into Ravenclaw, as was the next boy called, Jackson Bobbins. That last name tickled at her memory and, after a few seconds thought, she realized he must be related to the Bobbins woman who had one of her mother's mother's wands.

The first girl sorted was an Amelia Susan Bones, a rather plump girl who looked altogether too stern for an 11 year old, who was placed in Hufflepuff. The next name was Rosmerta Carrow, who Amaryllis remembered her father mentioning was a distant cousin of hers, being a descendant of her father's sister. She was a pretty girl with curly brown hair and a taller frame that made her look older than 11. She was placed in Gryffindor, to raucous applause from that table. Selena Cattermole, a wisp of a girl with long black hair that fell in her face without attempt to move it, was placed in Ravenclaw after what must have been a short debate by the Sorting Hat.

Winky Crockett was a tall, wider built girl with a confident stride, who sat on the stool as though it was a throne and she was being crowned queen. She was instead sorted into Slytherin, which seemed to suit her just fine because she broke into a grin and joined her fellows to polite applause.

Amaryllis began to fidget again as a Caradoc Dearborn was called up on stage. He was a shorter, cheerful boy who just about jumped to reach the stool. They were drawing closer to her name and the paranoid part of her mind was bringing up the difficulties she had matching with a wand at Ollivander's. What if the Sorting Hat had similar troubles and couldn't find a house for her? What if it realized what she was and declared her banned status for all to hear?

As Dearborn was sorted into Hufflepuff, she felt a bump at her shoulder.

"Dedalus Diggle," called Dumbledore.

She glanced up at Tom and he gave her that knowing side smirk of his. "Keep shifting about," he murmured with a smooth sarcasm, "and we'll need found a new house to place you in. Perhaps one with the symbol of a groundhog, for the easily spooked."

Amaryllis's eyes narrowed in annoyance, but then she realized he was right about being skittish and had to hold her lips together and look away because she wanted to laugh at her own foolishness.

"Gryffindor!" shouted the Sorting Hat.

When she looked back up at Tom, he was casually paying attention to the sorting ceremony again, but he glanced down when she turned to him. "Thank you, Tom."

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore called out, "Amaryllis Dippet," and quickly shut his mouth again.

There was a curious silence that spread over the students, all eyes turning to the Headmaster's daughter. She flushed pink at the attention and, with one last glance up to the one person she knew wasn't judging her and receiving a cool and confident glance in return, she straightened her stance and made her way through the crowd of roughly 80 First Years with as much grace as a nymph could summon to reach the Sorting Hat. Her fellow first years made it a little easier, stepping back to let her pass, none likely wishing to be faulted for accidentally tripping or pushing their headmaster's child with said headmaster watching the ceremony.

Whispers were going up as she neared the front of the stage, and Amaryllis' gaze went between her father sitting in the middle of the staff table and Albus holding the Sorting Hat. Her father gave her an encouraging nod and smile, and Albus gave a small nod to the stool for her to sit, twinkling eyes seeming to tell her she had nothing to worry about.

Amaryllis took a seat on the stool and closed her eyes, afraid to see all the many young magic folk staring at her. She felt the ancient hat slide down over her head.

"Ahhh," a voice hummed in her mind, making her startle a little. "So this is the daughter of our headmaster. Don't worry, girl, you're the only one who can hear me right now. It's not my purpose to decide who should attend Hogwarts, only place you in your house for your stay here. And my, my, you are an interesting one to sort. Shy you are, rather fearful right now… But I see you have courage when needed, almost to the point of recklessness…"

Amaryllis realized the hat was talking about her latest escapade at Diagon and felt her blush deepening.

"Oh, not just then," the hat answered her thoughts. "Your memories show a few instances of placing yourself in danger to protect your forest… Gryffindor might suit your bravery. Hm, but there's also a quick wit here and a thirst to learn. Ravenclaw would support your goals… But no. I don't think Rowena's house is quite where your heart lies."

Amaryllis went through the list of houses in her thoughts, and realized that left Hufflepuff and Slytherin, if not Gryffindor.

"Oh, you might be able to lash out like a snake if push comes to shove, but Slytherin House's current residents would take a sweet little nymph like you and tear you to pieces," the hat said evenly, perhaps with a smidge of humor. "No, no. Not Slytherin for you. Hufflepuff, now, that might suit you. You have an obviously deep tie to nature that Helga would have adored, and your love of those you deem friends like your familiar… that's what seems to motivate you and give you strength. Your bravery stems from that, and your desire to learn is fueled by your desire to be well again and return to your duties in the forest. Yes. Putting that together there can only be:" the hat's voice shifted to the room as he bellowed, "Hufflepuff!"

The hat was pulled from her head as hearty applause erupted from the center left in front of her. Amaryllis opened her eyes and gave a shaky smile towards her new housemates, but her gaze was drawn to the crowd of first years waiting to be sorted between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. Tom was just a bit taller than many of the First Years and as she found his dark gaze, she saw he was still smirking and gave her a small nod. She nodded back and then glanced over to her father, who was applauding politely from the staff table and gave her a beaming, proud smile at the announcement.

Amaryllis returned the smile and made her way to her table. As she passed Tom to take an empty seat, she said, "Good luck."

She couldn't hear a reply, though, if one was given, because her housemates were now shifting to make more room for her and call out welcomes. The house ghost, who was amicably dubbed The Fat Friar, was also making a bit of noise, cheering her arrival to their house and pointing his mug at the Gryffindor ghost as though he had won some sort of prize and was taunting the other ghost. The Gryffindor ghost, Sir Nicholas she thought she remembered his name being, sniffed and turned away from the jolly friar and began applauding as "Oscar Fawley" was sorted into his house.

Amaryllis only had the chance to learn the name of one of the prefects attempting to introduce themselves, a 5th year girl named Janice Hornby, when Oscar Fawley's twin sister, Violet, was sorted into Hufflepuff. The table erupted into applause again as good natured teasing was shouted from Gryffindor's older students and her brother.

Amaryllis politely clapped with her house, but she was finding the outbursts of noise to be a bit grating on her ears, and prolonged ambient outbursts of excitement or disappointment to be grating on her mind. She might not have fully developed empathy and sight yet, but the sheer number of people in close proximity and fluctuating moods in tandem with each other was more than enough for her to sense. She had to close her eyes to concentrate on blocking some of the sensory overload out.

"Benjy Fenwick," was called out next. Amaryllis felt a hand on her shoulder, someone trying to get her attention. She opened her eyes and looked over, to see an older, swarthy featured girl leaning back to reach around the girl sitting directly next to her, though her hand retreated upon getting her attention.

"All right there?" the girl asked with a vaguely familiar accent. If she wasn't mistaken, especially from the way she rolled her a's and blended her r's, it was Turkish.

Amaryllis nodded and said, trying to give a reassuring smile, "Just a lot to take in today."

The girl nodded back, then had to brush her shaggy, short raven hair from her face as she said, "I think we all feel like that our first day. Can't imagine waiting sorting with your own father watching."

Amaryllis gave another nod, knowing that's how she was expected to feel. "It's certainly an experience."

"Well, hopefully that'll be the most exciting one you have to face this school year," the girl said with a grin. She held out a hand for her to shake, saying, "My name is Samia Shafiq, your 6th year prefect. Welcome to Hufflepuff."

Amaryllis shook the girl's hand and said, expending what tiny bit of Arabic she knew, "Shokran, Samia." Samia gave a pleasantly surprised grin at that, and Amaryllis finished her thought by saying, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Gryffindor!" shouted the Sorting Hat.

Samia nodded, still grinning, and said, "You too."

"Olive Hornby," Dumbledore called.

Samia turned to the younger prefect. "Uh oh, Janice. Your baby sister is up."

"If she knows what's good for her, she'll sort into any other house," Janice said, suddenly dour and plopping her chin onto her hand.

A pretty golden haired girl flitted up to the stage, looking like a younger version of her beautiful older sister. To Janice's grumbling disappointment, her sister was soon declared, "Hufflepuff!" Olive's smile curled up to a smug grin and she traipsed to the table as "Inigo Imago" was called out.

Plopping herself directly next to her older sister, Olive said with glee that seemed more than a little insincere, "Mother and father are going to be so pleased. Another Hufflepuff in the family. Aren't you just sooo excited we'll be together, Janice?"

"I'm so excited I graduate next year, and I'm sorry for Hufflepuff that the rest have to deal with you the next seven years," Janice said humorlessly.

"You better be nice or I'll owl father," Olive threatened, an edge to her voice forming. "Then you'll be getting a Howler."

"Spoiled brat…" Janice muttered, turning away to blatantly ignore her sibling.

"Hufflepuff!" declared the Sorting Hat. Janice made a point of loudly clapping for the newest arrival, then forcibly pushed her sister down the bench to make room and grant herself space.

The newest Hufflepuff was a willowy youth with silvery-blonde hair that fell in thick waves past his shoulders, and the pale blue eyes that took in the table's seating arrangements had a faint silvery sheen to them, not unlike Olivander's. Amaryllis wondered if they were related somehow. He gave a polite smile to Janice but walked a little further to sit near the end of the table.

"Quillon Jugson!"

Janice let out a miserable groan as Olive slid back over and said, "Father will hear about that shove."

"I'm sure he will, you…" Janice managed to bite off any further confrontational words with a huff.

"You, what?" Olive challenged.

"Shut up, twerp, or I'm jinxing you with your first case of acne," Janice threatened with serious promise in her voice.

Olive glared at her and muttered, "Father will hear about that too."

The Sorting Hat's call of "Gryffindor!" was nearly drowned out by Olive's high pitched squeal of horror, her face erupting with tiny pimples everywhere.

"I'm telling father!" Olive screeched at her sister.

"Worth it," Janice said unapologetically.

Professor Beery came storming over as everyone's attention remained on his house's table. "Of all the! Janice Hornby! I expected better of a Prefect than interrupting the Sorting Ceremony with such childish behavior! 10 points from Hufflepuff," this was met with frustrated groans from all the older students at the table, "and you will escort your sister down to the Hospital Wing this instant. If this continues, you'll have proven my faith in you misplaced and I will assign a new Prefect."

Janice nodded and said contritely, "Apologies, professor. Sibling rivalries and all, and barely back at school. Takes a little to break out of the bad habits from summer time."

Professor Beery sighed and gestured to the door. "See to it that this is your only slip up, both of you. Hufflepuffs should not be fighting and jinxing one another. Now off with you."

Janice put a hand on her sister's shoulder and said, "Come on, twerp, Madam Parkinson's is this way."

Olive glared at her elder, but followed quietly for a change.

Professor Beery let out a heavy sigh that seemed to come from his toes, then turned to the Headmaster, saying, "My apologies for my house's disruption, Headmaster."

Armando nodded once, expression noticeably displeased. "It's hardly a trend for Hufflepuff, and I hope it won't become one," he said wryly, turning his gaze on the students of his old house, who collectively looked away or shifted in embarrassment. Assured there'd be no further outbursts, he said mildly, "Let the Sorting Ceremony continue."

.

.

.

No longer having to play the supportive friend to the Headmaster's daughter, Tom's attention had turned to discretely examining the students at each House table and his fellow first years. Two boys were quietly conversing near him, obviously knowing one another from outside of school and having a sarcastic running commentary going of notable students they were starting with. Tom made a point of paying attention, as some of the information might be useful.

Euphemia Kettleburn, for instance, who was sorted into Ravenclaw, was apparently the niece of their Care of magical Creatures professor.

A second pair of twins was called up, by the last name Lestrange, with Falken being declared a Slytherin and Frimunt declared a Ravenclaw. The darker commentator, of some Mediterranean stock, mentioned "28" under his breath again to the taller brunette and said if they played their cards right, they'd be able to score free tickets for the theater for the winter holidays from Falken. Tom only knew of one wizarding theater right now, The Siren's Song over on Whimsic Alley, which was a classical theater and opera house. He hadn't expected the commentators to care about what most would consider adult-minded entertainment.

Tom had also heard vague references to a so-called "Sacred 28" of families during his time haunting Diagon Alley- those of the oldest and purest family lines in Britain. At least, according to the anonymous writer. The Carrow girl and Fawley twins had also been dubbed among the 28 by the commentators, with the side comment that the Carrow girl was the granddaughter of the Carrow who owned the divination shop on the corner of Diagon and Knockturn.

Marcus Longbottom, a tall, athletic looking boy for an 11 year old, sat a good long while on the stool to be sorted. During which he was also identified as "28" and the brunette commentator mentioned that if they made friends with him they could possibly get in on the baked treats his mom regularly sent his siblings and their friends, and therefore would undoubtedly be sending him and his friends. After nearly two minutes, he was declared Ravenclaw and bounded to his table to greet people he obviously knew in his House.

A few students later, Lyall Lupin was said to be a "barely half-blood" (whatever that could mean), and sorted into Gryffindor. The brunette muttered about Gryffindor's standards dropping.

Victoria MacMillian was dubbed "28", and the darker commentator grumbled about his parents were already hinting that her parents thought they'd make an appropriate match. She was sorted into Slytherin, to which the boy groaned at and hung his head, muttering, "It's all but certain that'll be the push now." His friend chuckled at his apparent misfortune.

Abraxas Malfoy, a young wizard with platinum blonde hair and dressed in sumptuous robes of silk and velvet, was dubbed "28" as well and sorted into Slytherin.

Tom was definitely noticing a pattern developing- the so-called "Sacred 28" families were largely tilting towards Slytherin house, followed closest by Ravenclaw.

His musings were cut short, however, as was the commentary next to him, with the opening of the doors at the back of the Great Hall again. It wasn't the Hornby sisters returning, however. It was the younger Mulciber, apparently healed up as best as Madam Parkinson could do for him. His pale face was covered in angry red blotches slathered in a clear, shiny ointment, but the pus was gone from the itchy blemishes. The flash burn on the side of his face was down to a heated pink color, looking no worse than a first degree burn.

Ignoring the bemused looks thrown his way, he stalked down the hall with his shoulders slouched. He clearly wished he could avoid being seen altogether. Tom turned away from the sight, actively keeping his expression neutral, but not before he saw the look of pure loathing and fear Mulciber shot at him when he spotted him.

Dumbledore cleared his throat awkwardly, and for a moment his gaze went to Tom. Tom stared back with a bored expression, willing himself to show no guilt before the professor who already didn't much care for him. Dumbledore looked contemplative, but turned his attention back to his duties.

A Helena Marsh was sorted into Gryffindor, while the commentators debated if they knew her surname and then if she might be related to an "Old Man Marsh" they knew.

Mulciber was next, it turned out his first name was Flynn, and the commentators had no compunctions about snickering as he passed, with the brunette muttering, "Nice face, Flynn. Sunburn? Or did your pa hex you again for being such a screw up?"

Mulciber glared at them, a small snarl rumbling in his throat, but he turned away and trudged to the stool. In no time, he was declared a Slytherin and he took up a spot not far from his cousin.

Evan Nott was another "28", and apparently the much younger brother of a younger witch who had opened a controversial store called "Nott your Mother's Robes" on Whimsic a few years ago with the help of their family's old money. At this point, Tom was not surprised to hear this boy declared a Slytherin as well.

Janet Ogden was apparently the daughter of a well-respected auror, sorted to Gryffindor. Madeline Pince was the elder daughter of eccentric but influential historians, and she was surprisingly (to the commentators, who pegged her for Ravenclaw) sorted into Gryffindor.

Ignatius Prewett, of the oh-so-revered "Sacerd 28", whose parents owned the apothecary "Prew's Brews" on Whimsic and whose second cousin owned "Feathers and Furs" on Diagon, was sorted into Ravenclaw.

Immediately following the Prewett boy was Bernadette Primpernelle. The duo of commentators had trouble remembering her lineage, but a blonde witch with a meticulous up do had apparently been eavesdropping on the conversation as well. She supplied that Primpernelle was related to "the 28" by marriage: her great-aunt (grandmother's sister) being Sacharissa Tugwood, the outrageously wealthy witch who started the magical beauty line industry. Madam Tugwood was quite the opponent of the feminist movement, Witches Advocating Intersociety Liberation (aka WAIL), which she felt was undermining her carefully crafted empire of maintaining traditional beauty standards. Madam Tugwood was currently wife of Andreas Carrow (who was her 6th husband, a serial widow from the way it was said with raised eyebrows and suspicious looking smirks,) and Tugwood/Carrow were the grandparents of the first year Carrow girl.

Shortly thereafter, Julian Pyrites was called up to be sorted, and there was some less discreet whispers that went up at his name. Tom overheard from a few sources that the elegantly dressed boy with a foppish air about him was the great-great-grandson of famed Alchemist, Argos Pyrites- who was the friend of another famed Alchemist, Nicholas Flamel. His family was apparently obscenely wealthy, his father one of the Governors and top donating patrons to the school. "The Pyrites Prince", as one of the male commentators sarcastically dubbed him, was sorted into Ravenclaw.

Tom had been so busy eavesdropping on conversations to pick up what he could, he hardly realized his name was coming up. Not long after Pyrites, though, after a few apparent muggleborns not worth more than some snickers from the commentators, he heard Dumbledore call out, "Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Tom noticed from the corner of his eye, the crowd of waiting first years having very much thinned out by now, that Amaryllis had turned around in her seat to view his sorting with interest. Her father also found his gaze from the staff table as he made his way to the podium and gave him a small, friendly smile and nod. Dumbledore was watching him with what seemed a carefully placed welcoming smile, but his eyes still held that suspicious cast to them.

Tom turned away from Dumbledore and resolutely looked forward, willing his body language to be nonchalant and carefree, as thought this was only a matter of course. Inwardly, he was more than a little nerve-wracked, wondering just where this hat would deem him worthy of being placed.

The hat slipped over his head and almost immediately he heard in his mind, "Oh-ho-ho! Well, now! What have we here?" No one had told Tom that the hat was also telepathic and if he hadn't been so determinedly concentrated on his body language at that moment, he would've jumped on the stool. Annoyance and embarrassment rushed through him, tinging his cheeks and ears with a flush. "Now, now, young Riddle. No need to be indignant. Many first years raised with wizarding families aren't told exactly how I operate and get a surprise. You do have such a quick temper, don't you? Rather like your more recent ancestors, though a far cry from your more ancient ones. Tut-tut, I hope that mellows with age… Now as to where to…"

Tom was initially in shock at the declaration of something to do with his ancestors, that this sentient hat recognized some link in him to the magical world he craved to be included within. As he had felt in his gut, this hat just confirmed he did belong to the world of magic by birth as well as talent. He managed to shake free his stunned silence to demand in his thoughts, interrupting the hat, "Wait a minute, hat! Not so fast! What do you know about my ancestors?!"

The hat's voice became almost playful. "Hm? Me? I'm only a hat. A rather smart hat, but I'm only enchanted to perform my duties."

"And those enchantments let you identify my ancestors!" Tom thought, getting annoyed again. "Don't play stupid with me. You know who they are!"

"I do," the Sorting Hat admitted candidly. "I'm certain you'd like to know who they are, and I can't say I blame you, what with you being an orphan. But I'm not permitted to tell you information I've gleaned from others' minds, even if they're related to you and or long since graduated. You'll have to figure it out for yourself. As for me, I've got the weighty job of deciding where to put you and not trying to base it off simply family ties. So a little quiet, if you please."

"Where would family ties tell you to place me?" Tom asked, refusing to let the subject pass and trying to wheedle even a small nugget of information about his magical heritage.

"Really can't tell you that," the Sorting Hat said, almost apologetically.

"I know full well from hearing the others talk that some of them specifically ask to be placed in a House because of family ties and you must bow to that request, unless it's entirely opposed to their nature and would go against the Founder's guidelines," Tom snapped out in his thoughts. "I was raised away from family and don't have the luxury of knowing what those ties might be to influence a potential request, so I think it only fair you tell me that much to aid my decision to request or not."

If the hat could sigh, Tom was fairly certain this one just did from the faint ripple that passed over it. "You're a slick-talker, aren't you? I swear, it's part and parcel with being a Parselmouth."

"Are you denying that I am being put at an unfair disadvantage for what will affect my entire school career because I was orphaned?" Tom asked without hesitation and refusing to be distracted.

"Some might say not knowing one's heritage or traditional family house is a boon, as you'd be placed without prejudices swaying you," the Sorting Hat said archly.

"I'm going to be subject to prejudices either way, hat," Tom said crossly, resisting the urge to petulantly fold his arms in front of him.

Again, what may have been a hat-sigh. "Wit of a Ravenclaw, diligence of a Hufflepuff, bravery of a Gryffindor. I really could place you anywhere and it might serve you well enough. But you have the inner desire already, and are undoubtedly a fit in all respects, for:" the Sorting Hat completed his sentence out loud, "Slytherin!"

Before the hat could be removed, it said wryly to Tom, "Good luck, little snake. You're going to need it, and to learn to sleep with your eyes open, until you find some answers. Try not to swallow up the would-be snakes when you're grown."

Tom had no idea how to respond to that cryptic farewell from the sentient hat; but as he turned his gaze to the Slytherin table and saw the varying guarded, displeased, or calculating glances thrown his way, he realized the hat may not have been being melodramatic after all.

Tom kept his expression as easily confident as he could, but he couldn't help wondering as he made his way to his new housemates if his desire all summer to join the house with his favorite animal as a symbol was a wise desire. He was clearly walking into a den of snakes he couldn't control with a few hissed words, and those he had already angered seemed to have a number of friends at their sides, and knew this vast castle far better than he did. The older Mulciber cousin, Jerome, may not have joined his friends on the train in hunting him down, but by the vicious glance he momentarily spared for Tom, he hadn't refused out of cowardice or remorse. He was likely biding his time with more patience.

Tom sat down at a free spot far down the table from Mulciber, somehow keeping his composure together, and turned his gaze towards the Sorting Ceremony. He didn't miss, however, the looks the older Mulciber exchanged with two older boys across from him, nor the way one of those boys whispered something to his friend next to him.

Tom's stomach felt like it was free-falling to his knees. His odds of winning conflicts that were likely inevitable throughout the year were plummeting just as fast. He had better secure himself some more allies, quickly, and work on his defensive spells. Otherwise, never mind being a useful ally/friend to other students with more influence than he. He had a not so unsubstantiated feeling that if he didn't, he'd very well be the next Slytherin visiting the Hospital Wing, if not finding it a semi-permanent residence.

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A/N: And another chapter just two days later! I had some free time today. I also planned for this chapter to go into their first few days settling in, but felt like it was appropriate to end it where I did. That makes this chapter shorter than planned, at 5k words, but at least you folks get another update in timely fashion. I figured that'd be better, as life has a way of throwing me rogue bludgers, or infestations of wrackspurts, the last few months and I may have to go poof from any writing for awhile. Hope you enjoyed, and that you've all had a lovely weekend. Next chapter will be these two's initial attempts at trying to wade through Hogwarts school life.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

After the sorting ceremony was completed, Hufflepuff had welcomed seven more new students to their house. There was a grand welcoming feast that took place, with dishes appearing from seeming thin air on the table. Amaryllis knew where the food had come from, having been down to the kitchens before school started. She was thankful to see that, among the many traditional English foods, the elves had discreetly made certain there were a number of offerings a nymph could eat without digestion issues.

Mentally noting that, she decided she'd pay them a visit to thank them when she could and made certain to serve herself portions of the dishes she could eat before the other students could eat it all up.

Eating, however, was made somewhat difficult by the people wanting to pull her into conversations. Some were pleasant; such another first year, Skylar Weasley, whose twin had been sorted into Gryffindor, and who was just excited to have other first years to talk to. Some were like Horatio Shacklebolt, a third year who was curious about the headmaster's foreign raised daughter and trying to elicit information about what it was like to be raised in Italy.

And others were a bit more tiresome to speak with between bites of food. Such as Alstroemeria Brown, an aggressive fourth year who insisted on people calling her "Merry", and who wanted to know more about Amaryllis personally, as well as trying to weasel information out of her about how her parents met and what sort of magical inclinations her mother had. Samia saved her from that line of questions by asking Merry how her trip to New York went. Merry broke into a grin and launched into bragging about sights she had seen and places she had gone shopping.

Not long after, though, fifth year Billy Vane wanted to know if the reports in the Daily Prophet were true, that there had been some sort of scuffle she was involved in at Diagon Alley. This question drew a lot of gazes from nearby students at the table. Apparently many had heard about it and had just been too polite to ask. Ducking her head with embarrassment, Amaryllis realized there'd be no timely interventions on this question.

She took a bite of her roast chicken and a sip of pumpkin juice, trying to remember precisely what her father and Albus had said about speaking on the subject. They had anticipated that at least some of her fellow students would hear about the incident from their families, and they didn't want to inflame rumors nor unduly ignore what had happened. She finally said, trying to keep her response neutral and devoid of information that would provoke the bullies with gossip, "Yes, there was an incident at Diagon. A boy stole my money and when my familiar and I tried to get it back, his friends showed up and chased us down. Another boy intervened, getting my money back and chasing them off."

"I heard those involved with the incident were charged with actually injuring a witch and her familiar, not just harassing," said an older girl with strawberry-blonde hair and a light sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks. "Are you alright now? What happened?"

Amaryllis could feel the heat of a blush starting to spread on her cheeks. She really didn't want to be discussing her own follies. "I'm fine now. A couple of my ribs were cracked from a little force spell used, and one of them used a slicing spell that cut my familiar's leg." She couldn't quite keep the anger out of her voice as she remembered poor Zephyr getting hurt while trying to protect her. "Father healed us both good as new."

"Oh, you poor dear!" the girl with the Head Girl Badge said in horror; Maria Bell, Amaryllis thought she remembered her name being. "What a rotten way to start off your time here! That must have been so terrifying!"

"Who stole your money?" Asked an older boy she didn't know the name of, wearing a Prefect badge and sounding angry on her behalf.

"Flynn Mulciber," Horatio said matter-of-factly when Amaryllis didn't answer, instead taking another bite of her food. To the older boy's question of how he knew, all he said was, "Pa's in the DMLE, remember? Heard about it from him."

Samia groaned and spared a glare for Slytherin table. "So undoubtedly Jerome's gang was the friends. Bunch of reprobates."

"What I didn't hear, though," Horatio said, now casting a renewed curious glance at Amaryllis, "was who had stepped in to protect you. My pa said he couldn't tell me because the case was open at the time and the kid was too young to be naming when he wasn't the perpetrator. That'd make him a first year. I want to know what sort of first year can fend off Jerome and Antonin. They're not on par with some of the boys in their year, but they're brutal in Dueling Club if they're not being monitored."

Amaryllis shrugged, gaze studiously avoiding Tom. She was not sure if it was wise to draw attention to him, even if this sort would be positive.

Olive had returned about twenty minutes into the feast, blotchy faced and sullen. Now, however, she apparently couldn't help herself and piped in, tone saccharine and teasing, "Was it that boy you were talking to before the sorting ceremony?"

"Which boy?" Janice asked her sister, tone nominally curious.

Olive looked around and then nodded towards Slytherin table. "That one, over there. Tall, slender, dark hair and eyes, sort of cute."

Janice glanced over her shoulder, spotted the boy in mention, and then looked over to Amaryllis. "Riddle, I think Professor Dumbledore said his surname was, right?"

Amaryllis sighed and looked up to see who Olive had nodded to so there'd be no mix-up. Seeing that Tom had been correctly identified, she gave a nod. "Yes. Tom Riddle. And yes, he was the one who aided. I don't know the skills of the boys in question, but he dealt with them quick and then made certain I was safe while my familiar went to find my father. It was brave of him, but I don't think he wants a fuss being made over it. Please don't embarrass him or make things harder on him."

The other Hufflepuffs couldn't help but shoot various approving and curious looks Tom's way. Billy Vane muttered to the other boy asking so many questions, "Wonder why he got sorted in with the snakes, then. Sounds like he should've been one of us."

The Prefect nodded, brushed shaggy black hair from his eyes, then shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe the cunning and survivalist aspect of Slytherin House, being able to outsmart all three of them. He's going to have a devil of a time, though."

Skylar Weasley had latched on to a different part of the earlier conversation, however, and asked Amaryllis, "What is your familiar?"

Thankful for the reprieve, Amaryllis was happy to discuss Zephyr. Skylar was surprised to hear that she had met the merlin in the woods, and found it fascinating that she had been able to bond with a wild animal. That led to Skylar expressing her desire to be taking Care of Magical Creatures in their third year, and the two girls discussing various magical beasts. The nymph had to be very careful about what she said, to not give away an unusual connection between herself and animals, making it sound like her interactions had instead been distant observations from a "safe" distance. Even still, she enjoyed Skylar's enthusiasm on the subject and they spent quite some time talking before Skylar was pulled into a conversation by an older cousin further down the table.

Amaryllis was able to continue avoiding any further uncomfortable questions and made it through dinner mentally exhausted but at least with a stomach full of good food. Soon enough, Albus announced that it was time for the Prefects to lead the younger students to the dorms to get settled in for their first night.

Amaryllis sighed in disappointment, having hoped she'd be able to speak a little with Tom before the end of the night to see what he thought of his new house, find out what had happened on the train, and simply have a little respite from all the questions her new housemates had been asking.

She glanced over to the Slytherin table as she stood, and caught a glimpse of Tom readying to depart with his classmates. He was standing slightly to one side and, though she couldn't be certain, it seemed he was on edge from his rigid posture and carefully placed smile. Apparently he wasn't having such a great time of their first day of school. And she realized why, when her gaze took in some of the other Slytherin students. Every single one of the boys from the alley were in his house. Now she understood just why the prefect said Tom was going to have troubles with Slytherin house. Amaryllis felt a twist of guilt and worry in her stomach. Tom had only stepped in to protect her from a bunch of thieves and ruffians, and now he was going to be stuck in the path of their displeasure all year.

She looked to the staff table, wondering if her father might have any need of speaking with her before she retired with her house. Armando, however, had apparently left the Hall at some point during dinner because he was nowhere to be seen.

As the houses filed out of the Great Hall, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor headed up the stairs, and Slytherin and Hufflepuff were told they'd be heading to the dungeons. Amaryllis made a point of allowing herself to drift to the back of her group. The gatherings for both houses were large, so it wasn't difficult to go unnoticed in the crowd. She was happy to notice Tom was doing the same, so she slowed her pace further and let other students in more of a hurry slip past her, until she was at the back.

Tom stepped next to her, but remained silent. She glanced up at him and this close she could see a faint tremor along his jaw, as though he was straining to keep his mask of confidence in place. Facing forward to keep an eye on her classmates ahead of her so she wouldn't lose them, and to not trip down the stairs, she asked quietly, "Hey, Tom. You going to be alright?"

He glanced down at her for just a second, then faced forward again. "Yeah, of course."

"I admire your confidence, but I noticed who is in your new house."

Tom shrugged. "Already devising plans to handle it."

"It's an awfully big group," Amaryllis noted wryly. "You can't hex hundreds of people into behaving."

Tom's smirk became sharper. "If I have to, I will. But generally it only takes making a point with a few key people that you're not to be trifled with and then the rest scatter. I'll discover who the ringleaders are and handle it."

Amaryllis sighed and shrugged. "I wish you didn't have to worry about that."

"I've always had to worry about watching my back," Tom muttered bluntly. "Hogwarts will apparently be no different for awhile."

"I don't know all the rules about houses mingling," Amaryllis offered tentatively, not wanting to trample on his pride, but concerned for his safety, "but some of my housemates heard about what happened this summer from their parents." Tom glanced down to her, eyebrow raising. "They seemed impressed by what you did. One of the prefects' friends even said you should've been sorted with us. If things get too bad with Slytherin, you might be able to find safe haven with us as needed."

Tom seemed to consider the offer.

From up ahead, a call from a deeper male voice came, "Slytherin, you're going to the left and down the stairs. Hufflepuff, follow your prefects to the right down the hall."

They exchanged a look. Amaryllis gave him a small, encouraging smile. "Just making the offer. I wouldn't want to see something happen to you. Especially not because you went out of your way to help me. Our Prefects and Head Girl seem friendly; I don't think they'd mind much."

Tom nodded and said, "I'll keep the offer in mind, but I prefer to face problems on my own strengths so they don't grow into problems I can't handle later."

"Fair enough," Amaryllis said, slightly disappointed because she was worried he might not be willing to accept help before he got in over his head with the older students.

Tom surprised her by gently bumping his shoulder against hers to get her attention and saying quietly, "Thank you, though. I will keep it in mind and let you know if I need anything."

Amaryllis' smile crept back, feeling marginally relieved. They were nearing the split in the corridor, and drawing closer to the students ahead who were now bottlenecking into their respective turnoffs. "See you around this weekend?"

Tom nodded, his own smirk returning with seeming less strain. "Yeah. If they don't keep us segregated all the time, with it being a three day weekend I should see you at some point."

Amaryllis' grin grew at his agreement. Well, at least she still had one friend, despite being in different houses, and she had some hope for potentially making friends with some of the other students in her house. As they reached the split, she said, "Good luck!"

His smirk grew a bit bolder and he simply gave a brief wave as he started his descent down the stairs to the dungeons.

Amaryllis turned her attention to the Hufflepuffs. Not seeing anyone she had chatted with during dinner immediately nearby, she slipped her hands into her outer robe's pockets, finger tips of her right hand brushing her wand with a reassuring thrum of faint magical recognition. That was becoming more common as she tried learning the foundations of proper wizard magic these last few weeks. It wasn't anything like what she knew connecting to a tree would be like, but it gave her hope that that she had made the right choice to come here and would be able to utilize her sire's brand of magic to get better. And as the slippery silk fabric of the pocket glided over her hand with her playing with her wand, she was also so very thankful that Albus had overruled her father on her clothing options, and then the two had worked some magic on her outfits to make them even softer and more comfortable. Even the confining and layered school uniform that she'd be required to wear come Monday and official start of classes had been charmed and altered enough by the brilliant transfiguration professor to be tolerable.

Noticing a familiar picture and finally bothering to fully pay attention to where she was going in this labyrinth of a castle, Amaryllis was pleasantly surprised to realize the corridor they were in was one she knew. That was the kitchen entrance to her right. The male fifth year prefect whose name she still didn't know was waiting at the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, showing groups of students how to enter. The seemingly random stack of barrels left outside the kitchen needed to be tapped in the right order and tempo to enter. Otherwise, the prefect warned, the barrels would spray someone with vinegar and the house elves would come out to see who was intruding.

Granted entrance to her new home for the school year, Amaryllis found herself shocked at the appearance of the primarily underground residence. The common room was a large circular room with a lower ceiling than many of the rooms in the castle, but there were windows along the top of two walls that looked out onto the castle grounds.

The room was filled with squishy-looking cushioned couches and chairs and a veritable explosion of potted plants and flowers hanging from planters or resting on stands between furniture. Some students were lingering in the common room, instead of immediately retiring to their dormitories. She gathered from some comments being made by older students that, while they were used to having such greenery in the common room, Professor Beery had apparently outdone himself this year with new additions. Samia was saying that many of the more delicate plants had magical emanations, indicating they had been conjured and altered to thrive in their new indoor environment.

Amaryllis couldn't help the knowing grin that formed. She had a gut feeling that her sire had disappeared from the Great Hall to come down to his old house and make some last minute changes now that they knew where she'd be residing so she'd feel less claustrophobic. That feeling was confirmed when she noticed a large specimen of her namesake plant placed not far from the entrance to where the girl's sleeping quarters apparently were. She sensed a lingering trace of her father's magic on them, identical to the small cut bunch he had given her mother over a decade ago.

Looking around the cheery, warm common room, Amaryllis felt a bit more at ease. Perhaps this year among magic folk wouldn't be so bad after all.

Skylar Weasley called over to her, "Hey, Amaryllis! Want to go check dorm assignments and see if we're in the same room?"

Amaryllis gave one last look to the potted plant with her name, then turned to her classmate. "Sì. Yes. I don't know my way around here yet, so someone to wander with would be appreciated."

Skylar laughed. "I haven't the foggiest idea either; most of my family has been Gryffindor, a couple into Ravenclaw. I'm the first Hufflepuff. We can get turned around together."

Eventually, with some direction from older girls, they made their way through twisty-turny corridors with barrel-esque archways, to a pair of rooms with massive barrel tops acting as doors. They tried the door to the left, and it swung open with surprising ease for all its size. Arranged around the circular room like spokes on a wheel were five bed sets. There were four poster beds, large chests at the foot of the beds, an end table at the head of bed on the right side, a small stool in front of a beauty table to the left. On each table was a small pile of socks, scarfs, hats, gloves, headbands, and ribbons in their house colors. Trunks brought in from the trains were sitting on the chests at the foot of the beds, marking the owners of each bed.

The other two girls in the room were busy exclaiming over the floral additions to their rooms. The draping for the beds, instead of being heavy cloth, were an interweaving of bright yellow tiger lilies and primroses. Sunflowers grew alongside the beauty tables, the blooms framing the vanity mirrors, and bunches of black-eyed Susans mixed with yellow carnations and white roses were in little black vases on the side tables.

Amaryllis' grin returned at the sight. Her father had really outdone himself in the short time he had to work with, and he had been careful to give each bed set equal attention to not draw attention to her. Everyone else was seeming to take it as a new thing the horticulturally-inclined house was trying out this year.

Skylar spotted her trunk, conspicuous as it was in the sunny room by being clad in red leather. The girl giggled, one hand reaching up to fiddle with her brilliant red curls. "Well, I suppose I'll have to owl home to mother and let her know my trunk needs to be changed. We all figured I'd be in Gryffindor."

"Did the Sorting Hat tell you why it was placing you in Hufflepuff?" Amaryllis asked.

Skylar gave her a bemused, yet amused, look. "I don't think that hat ever explains itself to anyone, except maybe the Headmaster."

"Oh," was all Amaryllis could think to say. Did the Sorting Hat give her some sort of special treatment or consideration because she was the Headmaster's daughter? Trying to cover for her lack of response, and not wanting it to seem like maybe she had a different experience, she said after looking at the other beds, "I don't see my trunk. I must have been assigned the other room."

Skylar pouted a little. "Well that's disappointing." She gave a small shrug, marshalling a smile. "Well, it's only assigned for sleeping, after all. We can always visit in each other's room or the common room." A brilliant flush crept across her porcelain smooth cheeks, and she muttered, "I mean, if you want to hang out, that is. Not saying you have to…"

"I think I'd like to," Amaryllis said, cutting off the embarrassed girl's nervous ramblings.

Skylar gave a relieved smile. "Alright then. See you in the morning?"

Amaryllis returned the smile. "See you in the morning, Skylar."

Departing for her own dorm room, Amaryllis was a little displeased to note that she had been assigned to share a room with Olive Hornby. It was too early to tell just exactly what sort of girl she was, and they were young yet and she could change attitudes. It might even just be that Olive was "bratty" with her older sister and would be pleasant with others. But she had the feeling that Olive was going to be quite the nuisance to deal with.

Olive was busy talking to two other girls they were apparently sharing the dorm with. Amaryllis didn't know anything about the taller girl with her brunette hair in an intricate twist of braids and ribbons (the latter of which matched the sleek dress she was wearing with its ribbon laces,) except that she vaguely remembered her surname might be something like McLynn or Mackin.

The other girl, though, was a pretty, slender blonde with perfectly placed blonde curls that felt like a waterfall down to her knees and brilliant blue eyes framed by thick dark lashes. Amaryllis remembered that girl was Bernadette Primpernelle because she was another distant relation that her father had told her about. She apparently preferred to be called "Nadia" by friends and family and was Rosmerta Carrow's cousin by their grandmothers- those grandmothers being the great-great-great granddaughters of her father's sister. There was also some additional intertwining relations to them via marriages with distant cousins throughout the last 300 years. Amaryllis wasn't quite as sure on those more confusing links. Her father was quite old, even for a wizard; and unlike him, his parent's siblings and his own siblings had had a few children back in their youth, and the descendants of those children had all done so as well, and many had spread out to many places around the world and then some had come back to England and married distantly related English spouses.

As Amaryllis made to go to her little section of the room, not wanting to interrupt the conversation taking place just to introduce herself to her distant cousin, said cousin noticed her presence and broke off with a delighted, high pitched, squeal. "Oh there you are! You slippery minx!"

Nadia came bustling over, voluminous skirts of her gown billowing around her legs. "I didn't have a chance to say hello during the feast, but I absolutely would be horribly remiss if I didn't now!" She took one of Amaryllis's hands in her own, giving it an excited squeeze. "I'm Nadia Primpernell, one of your cousins. Mother told me your father would make mention we were starting together and told me to tell you that if you need anything, absolutely anything at all, while you're getting settled into Hogwarts or at any point in the school year, you shouldn't hesitate one bit to let me know and I should be certain to help in any way I can.

"Tomorrow, if we have a chance, we should meet with our cousin, Rosmerta, as she has been absolutely dying to meet you ever since we found out we had another cousin our age! It's been so exciting, especially with Great-Uncle Armando being just so mysterious and greedy with your time! I can't blame him, though, what with you being away for so long! But now that we're all here together, we really must make up for lost time! I can't wait to hear all about you and I'm certain we're going to all be like three peas in a pod when we get to know one another! I bet in a few months, the only way people will be able to tell us apart will be by our hair colors!"

Hardly stopping for breath, Nadia let go with one hand to run her finger's along Amaryllis' loose strands of hair. "And speaking of, just look at this lovely raven hair of yours! It'll look so lovely with our house colors! And your eyes! My goodness! That gorgeous shade of violet must be from your mother, but wow! Will they pop with Hufflepuff colors! Oh, Grandmother Rissa is going to absolutely adore you when we get together for the holidays! She loves spoiling all the girls in the family with new clothes and makeup and hair accoutrements; she has the very best and classiest taste, what with being the leading witch in the fashion industry, you know, and she is just going to be over the moon with you! This is just going to be ever so much fun!"

Amaryllis managed to keep a polite smile on her face as the other girl gave another squeal that became a tinkling laugh, but she almost felt as though she had been trampled over by a Graphorn with that exuberant, dare she say over-the-top, introduction. She probably wasn't wrong in feeling it was perhaps a bit for show, as the other two girls Nadia had suddenly left, and another girl trying to enter from behind, were watching the two cousins now with interest. Amaryllis wasn't sure if Nadia was trying to cast a protective blanket of familiarity around her so the other English witches would treat her kindly, or if she was doing so for selfish ends to ingratiate herself with her foreign cousin.

Not to mention, while Amaryllis spoke and read English quite well, with as fast as Nadia had spoken she had missed bits and pieces of what was said as her mind scrabbled to make the translations. For instance, she sincerely doubted Nadia meant her eyes would burst when wearing Hufflepuff house colors, but she didn't knew what the other girl meant by her eyes would "pop". And she could guess from the general tone of the conversation that "over the moon" likely meant "Grandmother Rissa" would be happy to meet her; but when a nymph said someone was "over the moon", it meant the mortal had died and their soul had gone off into the stars. It was very confusing to say the least.

She did her best to summon up some enthusiasm and said, "It's very nice to meet you, Nadia. And thank you, for the very kind welcome. I'm looking forward to meeting my father's family while we're here. Please bear with me, though, as I'm not used to certain manners of speech here and some phrases said I'm unfamiliar with."

"Oh, of course, cousin!" Nadia exclaimed, seeming abashed and slowing down her speech a little. "I do natter on a bit, so please bear with me too. I'll try to be a bit more formal with my words until you get used to hearing our turn of phrases. And if I ever say anything that confuses you, feel free to ask what it means and I'll be more than happy to explain. I also sometimes use American phrases because Grandmother Rissa does so much business with the moguls across the pond, and I find some of them just so very interesting, so I'm sure I'll be raising eyebrows among our other peers too if a Yankee phrase slips out!"

She gave Amaryllis' hand a squeeze again as she laughed, then her smile becoming embarrassed as her eyes widened. "I'm sorry! I'm doing it again, aren't I? Grandmother Rissa says my one fault is that I can't seem to know when to be silent. She even had me checked to see if I was under a Chatterbox Jinx last year because I was apparently annoying her so! I was so terribly embarrassed, and my parents have been trying to remind me to mind myself ever since. I'm just so very excited to meet you! For as big as our family is, there's not been too many children as of late and most of them aren't even in Britain! Not since Great-Uncle Ambrosio went back to Spain and then his children moved with their children to be closer! To have not one but two cousins here at Hogwarts with is such a thrill! And mother and father have taken me to a number of places in Europe for holidays, but we haven't been to Italy yet. I absolutely can't wait to hear what it's like there!"

The brunette Nadia had been speaking to cleared her throat and said wryly, "Nadia, you're doing it, again."

A brilliant blush broke out on Nadia's pale cheeks. "Oh, I am, aren't I?" She sighed, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened her eyes again and her smile was back. "Well, dear cousin, please excuse my poor manners. This lovely witch is my oldest friend, Didiane Malkin, but you can call her Didi." Nadia led Amaryllis over to the girl, still holding her hand. "Our mothers met while my mother was on holiday in France; and then her mother and father moved into the suite above us when her father got a job in London about fifteen years ago. They wanted her to go to Beauxbatons for her schooling, but they quickly realized we were not to be parted and let her respond to her Hogwarts invitation to the positive. Didi, as you obviously heard, this is the cousin I was telling you about, Amaryllis! Isn't that such a lovely name?"

Didi rolled her hazel eyes, but her smile was light and good humored. "It is a lovely name. Have you been Epoximised to your cousin, however? Or do you plan to give her her hand back?"

"Hm?" Nadia asked, momentarily confused. Then, looking down, she realized what her friend meant. She quickly let go of Amaryllis' hand, saying, "Oh! Oh, dear me! I'm so sorry, Amaryllis! My manners really seem to have gone missing this evening, haven't they?"

"That's alright, Nadia," Amaryllis said, holding back a laugh. Whatever misgivings she had initially had about her cousin's motivations, it really did seem like the girl was easily excitable and genuinely happy to have another relative to be around, and perhaps a bit scattered in thoughts as well. "Thank you, truly, for being so kind. And it's nice to meet you, Didi."

Didi nodded and said, "Nice to meet you too! You've obviously met Olive at the feast, and that shy one over there," she said with a nod to the shorter brunette at the door, who was now the latest girl to blush, "is Felicity Parish. We met on the train and she's very new to Hogwarts and witch-life, so I'm taking her under my wing to help her get the hang of things."

"You are always so sweet like that!" Nadia said, grinning. She looked around the room and clapped her hands together with excitement. "I know I'm probably driving you girls crazy, but I really am excited about this school year! I think we're all going to have ever so much fun and be great friends!"

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Tom was thankful to discover, upon finding his dormitory room, that Flynn Mulciber had been assigned to the other 1st year boy's dorm room. One of the administrators, though he couldn't be sure who, had enough good sense to not force them into too close of quarters after the summer's incident. The 6th year prefect, Iravir Bulstrode, a heavier set bull of a young man, had also made an announcement before allowing students into the dorms. That announcement being that because of recent years' in-house rivalries getting a bit excessive in being expressed, their Head of House, Professor Slughorn, had instituted a new measure for Slytherin House. No students were allowed within the dorm rooms that weren't their own. The doorways had been enchanted to only allow those who belonged within, and those who didn't belong would find themselves on the receiving end of a rather obvious curse. What precisely that curse was, Slughorn was keeping to himself. Lists were posted outside each room so students knew where they belonged.

While some of the students, especially those with cousins or siblings in the House, had been displeased by this announcement, Tom was secretly relieved. At least he could cross off members of the immediate Mulciber gang having access to him when he was at his most vulnerable-asleep or showering.

He was sharing the room with the Lestrange twin who had been sorted into Slytherin, Malfoy, Nott, and the Mediterranean half of the gossiping duo during the Sorting Ceremony- Baldassario Wilkes. Wilkes' companion, Sandor Travers, had also been sorted into Slytherin and was in the next room. The four boys he was sharing a room with all clearly knew one another from before the start of the school year. The first three seemed to be fairly good friends from how they had talked over dinner, and Wilkes seemed to be on pleasant enough terms with them as they began sorting through their things to settle in, though not as close.

More importantly, to Tom, the four boys he was grouped with didn't seem to much care for Mulciber and the people his older cousin was friends with.

Throughout dinner, Tom had been observing his fellow Slytherins. It was abundantly clear there were three distinct factions within Slytherin House, and there was little room for moving amongst them unless extenuating circumstances likely arose.

The first were members of "The Sacred 28" whose families were highly connected and rich. They grew up together, most were apparently related by various fashions a few times over, and were therefore obviously close knit. Only select people not within The 28 deemed worthy were allowed to penetrate that circle of elite childhood friends. Malfoy, Nott and Lestrange were part of the first faction.

The second group was members of The Sacred 28 whose families had fallen onto harder times or weren't generally as ambitious, but their blood purity was still considered to make them above any other students in certain circles' eyes (and this house was filled to the brim with people who thought like that.) In this faction also appeared to be children of noteworthy families who were not in The 28, but still considered worthy of casual socializing and perhaps later picking marriage prospects from. Wilkes and his friend, Travers, had been in that group.

The last faction was made up of those the other two groups didn't much care for. They were people from relatively "pure" bloodlines, obviously, to get into Slytherin House. But they were the sort to likely fall to the baser expressions of cunning and ambition and self-serving survival instincts. Such as the thief, Flynn Mulciber, and the brute, Fenrir Greyback. However, even this group seemed in a weird was to be fairly close knit. The born and raised wizards and witches within it all had a familiarity with each other and their own pecking order within their individual cliques and with the others.

Despite that, though, from how things had played out at the alley and on the train, Tom had taken Antonin to be the leader of the gang. During dinner, however, it seemed like Jerome Mulciber was the one calling the shots, and he heard on of the students from one of the other riff-raff cliques ask Jerome if he and his boys were free for the long weekend to have a small back to school party in the common room. Tom wasn't sure if the behavior during combative situations was an anomaly for how they behaved, or if Antonin was some sort of acting leader strictly in those situations because Jerome had the wealthier father with a temper to worry about, or if there was an inner-circle power struggle going between the two that remained to be resolved and Antonin was occasionally going rogue with Mulciber's own younger cousin. He'd be keeping a circumspect eye on that to try figuring out just what was going on with that gang and how it would effect him.

Because, honestly, all of this posturing was putting Tom in quite the pickle.

Unlike every other student in his house, he didn't belong to a faction the moment he had walked into Hogwarts. He was certain the elite faction thought him, with his obscured wizarding roots and a surname none of them knew, to belong in the last faction of ruffians who somehow managed to slink into their illustrious house.

Lestrange had asked him with passing curiosity during dinner if, with his middle name, he might perhaps be related to Marvolo Greengrass, as he was about age to be a grandson of Greengrass's.

Though he full well knew he was shutting the door on the potential alliance, Tom knew he'd be caught in a lie eventually with these geneology-obssessed people. He also knew "Marvolo" wasn't the link to finding out his heritage, as his mother had been an unfortunate circus freak too weak to survive labor that gave him that name after her father. He had no clue why such a woman would have even temporarily appealed to a wizard, but he knew his magical parent had to be his unknown father.

So he had admitted that he had no idea who his wizarding relatives were, as he was orphaned as a newborn. Lestrange gave a vague "hm…" and then turned back to his friends.

Just like that, he had been dismissed. They weren't out to get him, but he simply wasn't worth their notice unless he could somehow display the familial credentials to change their minds. It had made his blood boil, and he had to concentrate very, very hard not to let his magic lash out reactively. He could not afford to get in trouble, lose esteem in the Headmaster's eyes, even potentially be expelled from Hogwarts, for lashing out unprovoked at other students.

However, the latter faction that Lestrange's group had dismissed him into was not his. He didn't want it to be his, and he knew for certain they'd just as soon hex his head off as look at him.

No, he belonged in this house, and not just left with the dregs. This was where he belonged, more so than most. The Sorting Hat had confirmed it.

He almost wanted to shout that at the elitists as they unpacked their expensive robes and pristine books and random magical knick-knacks they couldn't bear to part from, continuing their conversations about the impressive places they had gone to with their families over the summer with supremely blasé tones that indicated the luxuries had long since been taken for granted.

No. Shouting at them, demanding his due, would only make him look unstable and more unworthy. Especially with nothing more than his own intuition and a charmed artifact's word that he had a place in this society.

He had to find out who his ancestors were, what lineage had unlocked the door for him to be allowed into the house he felt drawn to. He just wasn't sure where to look for that information.

But he knew of some people who might know. Wilkes and Travers and that girl who had chimed in, Nausicca Selwyn. They were in the middle ground group, useful to the elites and disdainful of the riff-raff. And they were avarice gossips who seemingly made it their business to be walking directories on wizarding families. They were his best chance at being tossed a bone on where to get started.

Nausicca seemed the most promising to try with. She had been giving him looks during dinner after he had answered Lestrange as he had. It was the look a cat gave an especially tenacious mouse it wanted to play with. He knew it well. Unfortunately for her, he was a snake, not a mouse. This game would be played by his rules. If he could find the information he needed, if he could excel in his classes until then, he might be able to buy his way into the middle faction. And if he could do so, he'd have a buffer between him and the Mulciber gang, and a potential in to penetrating the elites within his house eventually.

Even if he couldn't breech the elites within his own house, he already had the Headmaster's daughter inadvertently making ins for him within society. He had no idea what was said at the Hufflepuff table. However, as they had made their way from the Great Hall to the dorms, he had noticed some of the older black and yellow clad students flashing him friendly smiles and giving respectful distance for him to talk to Amaryllis; though she had seemed oblivious to the looks because she was too busy worrying about him. He was able to tolerate that worry because somehow she had gotten for him her housemates as potential allies for protection and making connections. It wasn't the same as having his own house, but it was something and he'd take what he could get.

"Riddle," Baldassario said from by his bed during a break in conversation with the other three.

Tom looked over from where he sat on his bed, the one to the far left of the door when entering and across from Wilkes, reading his history book because he had finished unpacking quite a while ago. Apparently the other boy wanted to make it clear they'd on a remote last name basis with one another. Moderating his tone so it was vaguely uninterested, he said, "Yes, Wilkes?"

Wilkes didn't seem to notice the tone. "I heard an interesting rumor on the train today."

"And what would that be?" Tom asked, sounding more bored and looking down at his book again.

"I heard that a first year was the one who bloodied up Jerome's gang in Diagon after they jumped the Headmaster's daughter," Wilkes said, intrigue now lacing his voice.

"Oh?" Tom asked, flipping to the next page. "And you're mentioning this rumor to me because?"

"Well, I noticed you seemed friendly with the Headmaster's daughter before and after the feast."

Tom noted from the corner of his eye that the other boys in the room slowed their unpacking, glancing between the two talking. "How observant of you," he drawled out sarcastically. "Is there a question in this line of conversation, or are you making an example of your powers of observation?"

He could almost feel the heat of the glare Wilkes sent him for not jumping on the bait to boast. After a few seconds silence, he asked, "Well? Was that you that dealt with them?"

Tom gave a small yawn and glanced up. "Yes."

"How?" Now Wilkes sounded truly intrigued and a fair bit disbelieving.

"Are you asking for a practical demonstration of the various spells used during the fight, or a blow by blow description?" Tom asked with a raised eyebrow, a hint of annoyance in his tone at being bothered.

Wilkes glanced over to the other three boys, who smirked in silent dares to take Tom up on the former because they clearly didn't believe much would happen. Wilkes wasn't that stupid, however, and shook his head. "Don't need a demonstration. Was just wondering how you dealt with the three, if that was you."

Tom shrugged, looking back down to his book. "Well, I'm sorry to break it to you, Wilkes, but what my lineage is isn't the only secret that will be kept from the rest of you. I don't reveal my methods upon request like some trick pony. Perhaps next year, when Dueling Club is accessible, you'll find out if you're fortunate enough to be paired up with me."

Evan Nott let out a small snort of laughter at the cheeky response, but Lestrange and Malfoy were not so amused by his audacity and traded looks that indicated they'd be talking about this when they had privacy to do so.

Tom made sure to note that. Just as he noted that Falken and Abraxas had in fact seemed momentarily curious about how a seemingly no-name, new to magic orphan had done as he had.

And he could tell that he had incidentally planted a small seed with the rest of the boys that maybe he wasn't as oblivious as he had previously said he was to his wizarding relations. In truth, he was; but they didn't need to know that. As he thought on it, he realized he might have stumbled onto a better way to get his answers.

If his gut instincts were right, these elitists wouldn't like unknown factors and secrets being kept from them. He knew from how impressed Headmaster Dippet and the Aurors were that he was quite skilled in spellcasting for his age and small glimpses of that would inevitably be leaked out during classes. They'd not like someone like him being able to perform so well, and it's not as though they had proof he wasn't a half-blood wizard.

Unless he was off his mark, at the very least a few of them in more socially delicate positions would start putting feelers out with older friends and family members to discover any possible leads on where he had come from. They'd need for their own peace of minds to either find out his wizarding roots and be reassured he was one of them on some level, or have something they could use to say he wasn't from wizards but was only a fluke born of muggles and had been improperly sorted. He knew he wasn't a fluke. The Sorting Hat had confirmed one side of his ancestors had possessed magic for many generations. Their guesses at his heritage, if he could poke and provoke them into making the efforts out of intrigued frustration, might just give him the leads he needed to discover his ancestry.

Tom lazily flicked his wand at the bed curtains, silently closing them so he could study in peace without stares. He didn't need to use the wand for such small things, but he didn't want the other boys to know he was capable of wandless magic. That was a critical weapon in his self-defense.

As he heard Wilkes ask Nott in a hushed voice if the other boy had heard what spell he had used to move the curtains, Tom smirked and said in a barely audible whisper, "Lumos" to light his wand so he'd have enough light to study by. Nott's response must've been too quiet to hear, or silent, or non-existent.

Ultimately, that didn't matter. Another seed was planted.

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A/N: A few quick notes on content.

1) For those of you who are good at math, you'll have noticed that I've made the first year class size a bit more than double what it was in the 1990s. That was intentional; for reasons that, if not obvious now, I'll sum up as- war kills populations something fiercely. We've got to get through Grindlewald's uprising, then Voldemort's reign of terror that hit Britain far harder. The 1990s class size reflected the diminished population post-civil war.

2) Some people have said in comments or (more frequently) PMs that I should take more credit for this, instead of my saying it's mostly canon writing. I'd like to point out I said it was "95% Canon Compliant". That means that this is my own brain-child in so far as plot, but I'm respectfully staying within the rules Rowling has laid out for wizarding history, magic capabilities, how various groups (human and non) interact, timelines, etc. I may eventually trip up and accidentally break a more obscure canon guideline because I forgot about it, and I'm definitely breaking a small bit of canon by writing this origins story as I am, but I'm trying not to tear up what makes this fandom what it is.

3) This is the part of the story where it becomes inescapably obvious we have many little known canon characters who are either briefly mentioned in the books, or are simply a name that Queen Rowling put out on Pottermore; or where I took the liberty to fill in ancestors of characters from the 1990s who were supposed to have roots in the wizarding world but didn't have time to be covered in canon. Hopefully, efforts to flesh out the Potterverse will be appreciated. If not, well, I'm having fun with it and I don't plan to stop doing so.

4) Digital cookies will be given to those who can correctly identify which category students fall into. Those with extremely impressive responses, drop down a first name you'd like to see popping up in the story (male or female) and why you'd like to have that name used. I have outlines for all the first year characters, but I'm finishing up the upper classmen that will make random appearances and your reward for your Potter-savviness can be contributing to the story by naming a character. Or maybe if you just leave me a detailed review of what you think so far, I'll take a name from that.

5) My son's 11th birthday is at the beginning of November, and in proper geek fashion he wants a Harry Potter themed party to celebrate. I've been plotting and planning to make it a bash worth remembering, especially with him being in a new school after our move to a new state at the beginning of this month, and we've been re-reading the books and re-watching the movies to get ideas and simply enjoy a story we both love.

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What's that mean for you folks? Well, being a little extra busy letting my creative side fly to make things special for the kiddo, I have Harry Potter facts obsessively on the brain. When I'm not working or plotting for the birthday or spending time with said kiddo, I've been in front of my computer typing chapters or outlining ideas for future chapters. Apologies to my other fanfics' readers, if you pop over here to get a hint of where the hell I went off to. I'll try getting back to you good folks soon. But so long as inspiration holds, I'm putting out what new chapters I can for Canto Alla Vita because it was left neglected for almost half a year.

6) Someone asked in a PM what inspired the name of this fanfic, so if anyone else is wondering, it's the name for one of my all-time favorite songs, sung by Josh Groban, that was highly appropriate for the overall theme of this story.

7) NEXT chapter will cover a few days of activities. Plot hooks were laid by chatterbox Nadia, then Riddle got plotting a little sooner than I anticipated, and this chapter hit 8k words before I added the A/N. I decided to end it before it became a monster chapter. Blame Nadia and Tom.

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Have a great week, everyone. With a bit of luck, I may have the next chapter out for some weekend reading by tomorrow or Saturday because as soon as this posts, I'm going to work on the next chapter while I have two hours left to kill before my next meeting.


	14. Chapter 14

Hey folks,

It's been a no good, very bad year.

Financial crisis, forced move because my landlord suddenly spiked our rent well above what I could afford, trying to get back on my feet, a few more deaths in the family since mom, issues with my son's school allowing bullies to torment him, more financial troubles.

My inspiration to write had completely tanked.

Moved back to my home state and in with an old friend to catch my breath, started getting real life things sorted, wrote a few new chapters for fanfics that just needed polishing and several chapters for my original novel…

and then Microsoft 10 decided to do an update on my computer. My fairly new and perfectly good gaming computer. But somehow, that update BRICKED my computer completely. My roommate is an IT guy for a government contractor. Even HE couldn't fix my computer. Whatever the update did, it made my files inaccessible to even all his tools and equipment that can usual recover files. Some of his coworkers he talked to while trying to recover my files said they've been hearing similar stories, or have had it happen to family members of theirs. Beware of Microsoft 10 updates, they are not addressing whatever shitty programming is wrecking computers.

I have lost EVERYTHING. What's on this site is what I have for my fanfics, and some very old copies of my original work that I sent to my sister and preliminary sketches/charts I did by hand is all I have of that project.

It took me awhile to get a replacement computer. And frankly, I'm devastated by the loss of years worth of work. My original project had a fully worked timeline of hundreds of years in a fantasy world, maps, its own language, genealogies, cultural traditions, peculiar flora and fauna that were actually scientifically possible, the works… I have been studying and busting my ass to get it right. And I lost almost all of it.

It has killed my creative side and I'm wondering why bother. For my original work, and for fanfics. And now that I've had a chance to finally sign on to fanfiction, I see that according to the lack of reviews on the last few chapters and low traffic volume for people even reading the last couple updates to my stories before I went poof, it doesn't seem like it'd much matter if I don't finish these stories.

So, I'm tossing in the towel for now. When things get back on track, I might try again with a new story for a fandom if inspiration hits, or I might just concentrate on my original works and trying to rebuild that series. I honestly don't know right now.

I just figured I'd give an explanation to the few people who did shoot me private messages, asking when I'd return. Sorry for not replying directly, I didn't want to make multiple explanations.

Take care, and I hope you enjoy the many other creative and fun fics being put out on the site. There's some amazing authors out there, so be sure to show them some appreciation.

SoI


	15. Insurrection And Inspiration

Hey folks.

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apologies in advance if this contains a bunch of typos, but I was drinking with my sisters this evening (anniversaries of deaths in family suck, so don't judge, I don't drink often) and I'm a bit buzzed right now. I've been busy with all the real life stuff I mentioned, but I've been getting sporadic email updates pinging my phone for reviews, and more frequently for PMs since my official hiatus announcement on all stories two weeks ago.

I honestly did not expect responses from more than a couple people in total between my three stories. Hearing from people as much as I did made me feel a small spark of happiness that perhaps I hadn't been wasting my time, and yours, with these stories. thank you for that. I mean it.

I've also gotten some random hate guest reviews I didn't allow to be posted, and a couple PMs of that nature. a few who admit they only read first chapter intros & are pissed I'm sticking to canons, so they wanted to flame no instead of finding a different story to their liking. to them, I say, "fuck you". If I don't keep characters in canon, I'm basically stealing names of characters for an original work & it stops being fanfic and becomes shitty plagiarism. Not. Doing. That.

And a handful were sicced on me because after leaving many positive reviews for an author in a fandom I do not write for, I left some constructive criticism because she took a break from writing, came back, and suddenly her characters did an about face and mangled the continuity established within the story to drastically reflect her new life views. it was jarring. it sucked to have sprung on us. And i was as polite as possible in asking her to consider how it plays out from a practical & literature stand point. but she was pissed. she's been fuming for months apparently, and she's been stalking my work apparently. she saw my last update & decided to take her revenge by siccing her fan base on me while I was down. I got a flood of PMs insulting my work, and worse, insulting me. some going so far as telling me to kill myself. so to her and them, I say, "you're a bunch of cowardly, thin skinned, tribalistic, rotting cunts. however, I hope you'll get professional help and become useful members of society someday." Cheers!

... anyway...

I was going over my stories. I don't have a spark of inspiration quite yet, but I feel like maybe I might be able to find one with some help.

So I'm enlisting each and every one of you reading this. that's right. you, in Poland. And you in Romania. And you folks in UK, USA, Russia, Pakistan, Germany, Belgium, Portugal, Hungary, Thailand, France, Estonia, Italy, Australia, Netherlands, Slovenia, and every other country showing up on my handy dandy page for who's been reading my stories beyond the first chapter in the last few weeks.

Every single one of you.

Loyal readers of the last few years & new additions who ate up those chapters.

I am asking for your help if you want me to continue these stories and give them a rewarding end.

Show some love. But more importantly, give me some in depth feedback. tell me what you love about whichever story you've been reading - what makes you laugh, what plot points keep you coming back for more, what unresolved issues you want answered, what characters you want more of, what literary devices I use that you would like continued or reigned in, etc.

I'm struggling with sparking back up the stories I had so strongly plotted in my head, I've lost that literary magic for the moment, but I'm seeing the stories through less fatalistic eyes than before. I see potential. So I'm asking you to participate in the process a little so we can maybe all have a satisfying conclusion, instead of leaving these stories unfinished or half assed wrapped up.

I realize some won't be arsed to reply... but given the last round of dismayed and sympathetic responses, I think many of you feel more invested in these stories than I realized. so, I don't feel it's inappropriate to ask for a bit more substantive feedback in general, without putting any of you individually on the spot, to get us to a conclusion worthy of the start. I'm shifting a small part of the weight of this continuing to you folks. if you have guesses on where I'm going that might be spoilers and opinions one way or other, send me a PM, not a review, so as not to leave potential spoilers for the other readers. otherwise feel free to turn reviews into a running debate or dialogue with one another to give me some consensus on what people are wanting/hoping for. Get me a more solid idea of what would be welcome, give me some lended inspiration, and I will sit back down and do my best to get these stories properly written.

yours,

SoI

p.s. pull off getting me inspired to write again, and I may change my handle from Sound Of Insurrection to a more upbeat Sound Of Inspiration in honor of all of you. or maybe that'll seem corny when I'm sober and I won't. idk. It's 2am, I should go to bed. night night everyone.


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